GIFT  OF 


"DOFF  THY  RAGS  AND  DON  THESE  SPLENDORS" 


THE 


PRINCE    AND   THE    PAUPER 


H  ZTale  for  l^oung  people  of  all 


BY  MARK  TWAIN 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW   YORK   AND   LONDON 
HARPER  &   BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 
1905 


f  -iltir//, 


\J 


Copyright,  1881  and  1899,  by  SAMUEL  L.  CLEMENS 


{All  rights  reserved} 


A 


TO  those  good-mannered  and  agreeable  children 
Susie  and  Clara  Clemens  this  book  is  affec 
tionately  inscribed  by  their  father. 


MlOilM 


THE  quality  of  mercy     .     .     . 

is  twice  bless' d  ; 

It  blesseth  him  that  gives,  and  him  that  takes ; 
'Tis  mightiest  in  the  mightiest  :    it  becomes 
The  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crown. 

AT er chant  of  Venice. 


I  WILL  set  down  a  tale  as  it  was  told  to  me  by 
one  who  had  it  of  his  father,  which  latter  had  it 
of  his  father,  this  last  having  in  like  manner  had  it 
of  his  father  —  and  so  on,  back  and  still  back,  three 
hundred  years  and  more,  the  fathers  transmitting  it 
to  the  sons  and  so  preserving  it.  It  may  be  history, 
it  may  be  only  a  legend,  a  tradition.  It  may  have 
happened,  it  may  not  have  happened:  but  it  could 
have  happened.  It  may  be  that  the  wise  and  the 
learned  believed  it  in  the  old  days ;  it  may  be  that 
only  the  unlearned  and  the  simple  loved  it  and 
credited  it. 


(vii) 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"DOFF   THY    RAGS   AND   DON   THESE   SPLEN 
DORS"      Frontispiece 

"RISE,    SIR    MILES    HENDON,    KNIGHT".       .       .  Facing  p.  108 

"OH,  MY  CHILD!" 272 

ix 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I. 
The  Birth  of  the  Prince  and  the  Pauper .  1 7 

CHAPTER  II. 
Tom's  Early  Life °  *9 

CHAPTER  III. 
Tom's  Meeting  with  the  Prince  .  0 ,26 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Prince's  Troubles  begin »  .  36 

CHAPTER  V. 
Tom  as  a  Patrician 42 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Tom  Receives  Instructions 52 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Tom's  First  Royal  Dinner 63 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Question  of  the  Seal « 68 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  River  Pageant  ....*..» 72 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  Prince  in  the  Toils 7$ 


xii  Contents 

CHAPTER  XL 
At  Guildhall 88 

CHAPTER  XII. 
The  Prince  and  His  Deliverer 95 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
The  Disappearance  of  the  Prince Ill 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
"Le  Roi  est  Mort  —  Vive  le  Roi" Il8 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Tom  as  King 134 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
The  State  Dinner 150 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Foo-foo  the  First 155 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The  Prince  with  the  Tramps 17° 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Prince  with  the  Peasants 182 

CHAPTER  XX. 
The  Prince  and  the  Hermit 19° 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Hendon  to  the  Rescue 199 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
A  Victim  of  Treachery 206 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
The  Prince  a  Prisoner 214 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
The  Escape « 219 


Contents  xiii 

CHAFFER  XXV. 
Hendon  Hall 224 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
Disowned , 234 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
In  Prison 240 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
The  Sacrifice 254 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
To  London      . 260 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
Tom's  Progress 264 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
The  Recognition  Procession 268 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
Coronation  Day 277 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
Edward  as  King 294 

CONCLUSION. 
Justice  and  Retribution 305 

NOTES 309 


HUGH  LATIMER,  Bishop   of  Worcester,  to    LORD    CROMWELL,  on  the 
birth  of  the  PRINCE  OF  WALES  (afterward  EDWARD  VI.). 

FROM     THE      NATIONAL     MANUSCRIPTS      PRESERVED     BY     THE     BRITISH 
GOVERNMENT. 


(xiv) 


HUGH  LATIMER,   Bishop  of  Worcester,  to  LORD  CROMWELL,  on  tht 
birth  of  the  PRINCE  OF  WALES  {afterward  EDWARD  VI.). 

FROM  THE  NATIONAL  MANUSCRIPTS  PRESERVED  BY  THE  BRITISH 
GOVERNMENT. 

Ryght  honorable,  Salutem  in  Christo  Jew,  and  Syr  here  ys  no 
lesse  joynge  and  rejossynge  in  thes  partees  for  the  byrth  of  our  prynce, 
hoom  we  hungurde  for  so  longe,  then  ther  was  (I  trow),  inter  vicinos 
alt  the  byrth  of  S.  I.  Baptyste,  as  thys  berer,  Master  Erance,  can  telle 
you.  Code  gyffe  us  alle  grace,  to  yelde  dew  thankes  to  our  Lorde 
Code,  Code  of  Inglonde,  for  verely  He  hathe  shoyd  Hym  selff  Code 
of  Inglonde,  or  rather  an  Inglyssh  Code,  yf  we  consydyr  and  pondyr 
welle  alle  Hys  procedynges  with  us  from  tyme  to  tyme.  He  hath  over- 
cumme  alle  our  yllnesse  with  Hys  excedynge  goodnesse,  so  that  we  ar 
now  moor  then  compellyd  to  serve  Hym,  seke  Hys  glory,  promott  Hys 
wurde,  yf  the  Devylle  of  alle  Devylles  be  natt  in  us.  We  have  now 
the  stooppe  of  vayne  trustes  ande  the  stey  of  vayne  expectations ;  lett 
us  alle  pray  for  hys  preservatione.  And  I  for  my  partt  wylle  wyssh  that 
hys  Grace  always  have,  and  evyn  now  from  the  begynynge,  Governares, 
Instructores  and  offyceres  of  ryght  jugmente,  ne  optimum  ingenium 
non  optima  educations  depravetur, 

Butt  whatt  a  grett  fowlle  am  I !  So,  whatt  devotione  shoyth  many 
tymys  butt  lytelle  dyscretione !  Ande  thus  the  Code  of  Inglonde  be 
ever  with  you  in  alle  your  procedynges. 

The  19  of  October. 

Youres,  H.  L.  B.  of  Wurcestere,  now  att  Hartlebury. 

Yf  you  wolde  excytt  thys  berere  to  be  moore  hartye  ayen  the  abuse 
of  ymagry  or  mor  forwarde  to  promotte  the  veryte,  ytt  myght  doo 
goode.  Natt  that  ytt  carne  of  me,  butt  of  your  selffe,  &c. 

{Addressed}  To  the  Ryght  Honorable  Loorde  P.  Sealle  hys 
synguler  gode  Lorde. 

(xv) 


THE    PRINCE   AND   THE    PAUPER 


CHAPTER    I. 


THE   BIRTH   OF  THE   PRINCE  AND  THE  PAUPER 

IN  the  ancient  city  of  London,  on  a  certain  autumn 
day  in  the  second  quarter  of  the  sixteenth  cen 
tury,  a  boy  was  born  to  a  poor  family  of  the  name 
of  Canty,  who  did  not  want  him.  On  the  same  day 
another  English  child  was  born  to  a  rich  family  of 
the  name  of  Tudor,  who  did  want  him.  All  Eng 
land  wanted  him  too.  England  had  so  longed  for 
him,  and  hoped  for  him,  and  prayed  God  for  him, 
that,  now  that  he  was  really  come,  the  people  went 
nearly  mad  for  joy,  Mere  acquaintances  hugged 
and  kissed  each  other  and  cried.  Everybody  took 
a  holiday,  and  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  feasted 
and  danced  and  sang,  and  got  very  mellow;  and 
they  kept  this  up  for  days  and  nights  together.  By 
day,  London  was  a  sight  to  see,  with  gay  banners 
waving  from  every  balcony  and  house-top,  and 
splendid  pageants  marching  along.  By  night,  it 
was  again  a  sight  to  see,  with  its  great  bonfires  at 
every  corner,  and  its  troops  of  revelers  making 
merry  around  them.  There  was  no  talk  in  all  Eng 
land  but  of  the  new  baby,  Edward  Tudor,  Prince  of 
2  (17) 


18  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

Wales,  who  lay  lapped  in  silks  and  satins,  uncon 
scious  of  all  this  fuss,  and  not  knowing  that  great 
lords  and  ladies  were  tending  him  and  watching 
oveY/rjifirj-i-ind  not  caring,  either.  But  there  was 
nq^alk  about  J:h.e  other  baby,  Tom  Canty,  lapped  in 
!ftis*' £<•>{)£. ?a.§v  except  among  the  family  of  paupers 
whom  he  had  just  come  to  trouble  with  his  presence. 


CHAPTER  II. 

TOM'S  EARLY  LIFE 

LET  us  skip  a  number  of  years. 
London  was  fifteen  hundred  years  old,  and 
was  a  great  town  —  for  that  day.  It  had  a  hundred 
thousand  inhabitants  —  some  think  double  as  many. 
The  streets  were  very  narrow,  and  crooked,  and 
dirty,  especially  in  the  part  where  Tom  Canty  lived, 
which  was  not  far  from  London  Bridge.  The 
houses  were  of  wood,  with  the  second  story  project 
ing  over  the  first,  and  the  third  sticking  its  elbows 
out  beyond  the  second.  The  higher  the  houses 
grew,  the  broader  they  grew.  They  were  skeletons 
of  strong  criss-cross  beams,  with  solid  material 
between,  coated  with  plaster.  The  beams  were 
painted  red  or  blue  or  black,  according  to  the 
owner's  taste,  and  this  gave  the  houses  a  very  pic 
turesque  look.  The  windows  were  small,  glazed 
with  little  diamond-shaped  panes,  and  they  opened 
outward,  on  hinges,  like  doors. 

The  house  which  Tom's  father  lived  in  was  up  a 
foul  little  pocket  called  Offal  Court,  out  of  Pudding 
Lane.  It  was  small,  decayed,  and  rickety,  but  it 

(19) 


20  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

was  packed  full  of  wretchedly  poor  families.  Canty 's 
tribe  occupied  a  room  on  the  third  floor.  The 
mother  and  father  had  a  sort  of  bedstead  in  the 
corner;  but  Tom,  his  grandmother,  and  his  two 
sisters,  Bet  and  Nan,  were  not  restricted  —  they  had 
all  the  floor  to  themselves,  and  might  sleep  where 
they  chose.  There  were  the  remains  of  a  blanket 
or  two,  and  some  bundles  of  ancient  and  dirty 
straw,  but  these  could  not  rightly  be  called  beds, 
for  they  were  not  organized ;  they  were  kicked  into 
a  general  pile  mornings,  and  selections  made  from 
the  mass  at  night,  for  service. 

Bet  and  Nan  were  fifteen  years  old  —  twins.  They 
were  good-hearted  girls,  unclean,  clothed  in  rags, 
and  profoundly  ignorant.  Their  mother  was  like 
them.  But  the  father  and  the  grandmother  were  a 
couple  of  fiends.  They  got.  drunk  whenever  they 
could ;  then  they  fought  each  other  or  anybody  else 
who  came  in  the  way;  they  cursed  and  swore  al 
ways,  drunk  or  sober;  John  Canty  was  a  thief,  and 
his  mother  a  beggar.  They  made  beggars  of  the 
children,  but  failed  to  make  thieves  of  them. 
Among,  but  not  of,  the  dreadful  rabble  that  in 
habited  the  house,  was  a  good  old  priest  whom  the 
king  had  turned  out  of  house  and  home  with  a 
pension  of  a  few  farthings,  and  he  used  to  get  the 
children  aside  and  teach  them  right  ways  secretly. 
Father  Andrew  also  taught  Tom  a  little  Latin,  and 
how  to  read  and  write ;  and  would  have  done  the 
same  with  the  girls,  but  they  were  afraid  of  the 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  21 

jeers  of  their  friends,  who  could  not  have  endured 
such  a  queer  accomplishment  in  them. 

All  Offal  Court  was  just  such  another  hive  as 
Canty 's  house.  Drunkenness,  riot,  and  brawling 
were  the  order  there,  every  night  and  nearly  all 
night  loner.  Broken  heads  were  as  common  as 

o  o 

hunger  in  that  place.  Yet  little  Tom  was  not  un 
happy.  He  had  a  hard  time  of  it,  but  did  not 
know  it.  It  was  the  sort  of  time  that  all  the  Offal 
Court  boys  had,  therefore  he  supposed  it  was  the 
correct  and  comfortable  thing.  When  he  came 
home  empty-handed  at  night,  he  knew  his  father 
would  curse  him  and  thrash  him  first,  and  that  when 
he  was  done  the  awful  grandmother  would  do  it  all 
over  again  and  improve  on  it ;  and  that  away  in  the 
night  his  starving  mother  would  slip  to  him  stealthily 
with  any  miserable  scrap  or  crust  she  had  been  able 
to  save  for  him  by  going  hungry  herself,  notwith 
standing  she  was  often  caught  in  that  sort  of  treason 
and  soundly  beaten  for  it  by  her  husband. 

No,  Tom's  life  went  along  well  enough,  especially 
in  summer.  He  only  begged  just  enough  to  save 
himself,  for  the  laws  against  mendicancy  were  strin 
gent,  and  the  penalties  heavy;  so  he  put  in  a  good 
deal  of  his  time  listening  to  good  Father  Andrew's 
charming  old  tales  and  legends  about  giants  and 
fairies,  dwarfs  and  genii,  and  enchanted  castles,  and 
gorgeous  kings  and  princes.  His  head  grew  to  be 
full  of  these  wonderful  things,  and  many  a  night  as 
he  lay  in  the  dark  on  his  scant  and  offensive  straw, 


22  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

tired,  hungry,  and  smarting  from  a  thrashing,  he 
unleashed  his  imagination  and  soon  forgot  his  aches 
and  pains  in  delicious  picturings  to  himself  of  the 
charmed  life  of  a  petted  prince  in  a  regal  palace. 
One  desire  came  in  time  to  haunt  him  day  and 
night;  it  was  to  see  a  real  prince,  with  his  own 
eyes.  He  spoke  of  it  once  to  some  of  his  Offal 
Court  comrades;  but  they  jeered  him  and  scoffed 
him  so  unmercifully  that  he  was  glad  to  keep  his 
dream  to  himself  after  that. 

He  often  read  the  priest's  old  books  and  got  him 
to  explain  and  enlarge  upon  them.  His  dreamings 
and  readings  worked  certain  changes  in  him  by  and 
by.  His  dream-people  were  so  fine  that  he  grew  to 
lament  his  shabby  clothing  and  his  dirt,  and  to  wish 
to  be  clean  and  better  clad.  He  went  on  playing  in 
the  mud  just  the  same,  and  enjoying  it,  too;  but 
instead  of  splashing  around  in  the  Thames  solely  for 
the  fun  of  it,  he  began  to  find  an  added  value  in  it 
because  of  the  washings  and  cleansings  it  afforded. 

Tom  could  always  find  something  going  on  around 
the  Maypole  in  Cheapside,  and  at  the  fairs;  and 
now  and  then  he  and  the  rest  of  London  had  a 
chance  to  see  a  military  parade  when  some  famous 
unfortunate  was  carried  prisoner  to  the  Tower,  by 
land  or  boat.  One  summer's  day  he  saw  poor 
Anne  Askew  and  three  men  burned  at  the  stake  in 
Smithfield,  and  heard  an  ex-bishop  preach  a  sermon 
to  them  which  did  not  interest  him.  Yes,  Tom's 
life  was  varied  and  pleasant  enough,  on  the  whole. 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  23 

By  and  by  Tom's  reading  and  dreaming  about 
princely  life  wrought  such  a  strong  effect  upon  him 
that  he  began  to  act  the  prince,  unconsciously.  His 
speech  and  manners  became  curiously  ceremonious 
and  courtly,  to  the  vast  admiration  and  amusement 
of  his  intimates.  But  Tom's  influence  among  these 
young  people  began  to  grow  now,  day  by  day ;  and 
in  time  he  came  to  be  looked  up  to  by  them  with  a 
sort  of  wondering  awe,  as  a  superior  being.  He 
seemed  to  know  so  much !  and  he  could  do  and  say 
such  marvelous  things !  and  withal,  he  was  so  deep 
and  wise!  Tom's  remarks  and  Tom's  perform 
ances  were  reported  by  the  boys  to  their  elders ; 
and  these,  also,  presently  began  to  discuss  Tom 
Canty,  and  to  regard  him  as  a  most  gifted  and  ex 
traordinary  creature.  Full-grown  people  brought 
their  perplexities  to  Tom  for  solution,  and  were  often 
astonished  at  the  wit  and  wisdom  of  his  decisions. 
In  fact,  he  was  become  a  hero  to  all  who  knew  him  ex 
cept  his  own  family  —  these  only  saw  nothing  in  him. 

Privately,  after  a  while,  Tom  organized  a  royal 
court !  He  was  the  prince ;  his  special  comrades 
were  guards,  chamberlains,  equerries,  lords  and 
ladies  in  waiting,  and  the  royal  family.  Daily  the 
mock  prince  was  received  with  elaborate  ceremonials 
borrowed  by  Tom  from  his  romantic  readings ;  daily 
the  great  affairs  of  the  mimic  kingdom  were  dis 
cussed  in  the  royal  council,  and  daily  his  mimic 
highness  issued  decrees  to  his  imaginary  armies, 
navies,  and  viceroyalties. 


24  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

After  which  he  would  go  forth  in  his  rags  and  beg 
a  few  farthings,  eat  his  poor  crust,  take  his  custom 
ary  cuffs  and  abuse,  and  then  stretch  himself  upon 
his  handful  of  foul  straw,  and  resume  his  empty 
grandeurs  in  his  dreams. 

And  still  his  desire  to  look  just  once  upon  a  real 
prince,  in  the  flesh,  grew  upon  him,  day  by  day, 
and  week  by  week,  until  at  last  it  absorbed  all  other 
desires,  and  became  the  one  passion  of  his  life. 

One  January  day,  on  his  usual  begging  tour,  he 
tramped  despondently  up  and  down  the  region  round 
about  Mincing  Lane  and  Little  East  Cheap,  hour 
after  hour,  barefooted  and  cold,  looking  in  at  cook- 
shop  windows  and  longing  for  the  dreadful  pork-pies 
and  other  deadly  inventions  displayed  there  —  for  to 
him  these  were  dainties  fit  for  the  angels ;  that  is, 
judging  by  the  smell,  they  were  —  for  it  had  never 
been  his  good  luck  to  own  and  eat  one.  There  was 
a  cold  drizzle  of  rain;  the  atmosphere  was  murky; 
it  was  a  melancholy  day.  At  night  Tom  reached 
home  so  wet  and  tired  and  hungry  that  it  was  not 
possible  for  his  father  and  grandmother  to  observe 
his  forlorn  condition  a*nd  not  be  moved  — after  their 
fashion ;  wherefore  they  gave  him  a  brisk  cuffing  at 
once  and  sent  him  to  bed.  For  a  long  time  his  pain 
and  hunger,  and  the  swearing  and  fighting  going  on 
in  the  building,  kept  him  awake;  but  at  last  his 
thoughts  drifted  away  to  far,  romantic  lands,  and  he 
fell  asleep  in  the  company  of  jeweled  and  gilded 
princelings  who  lived  in  vast  palaces,  and  had  ser- 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  25 

vants  salaaming  before  them  or  flying  to  execute 
their  orders.  And  then,  as  usual,  he  dreamed  that 
lie  was  a  princeling  himself. 

All  night  long  the  glories  of  his  royal  estate  shone 
upon  him;  he  moved  among  great  lords  and  ladies, 
in  a  blaze  of  light,  breathing  perfumes,  drinking  in 
delicious  music,  and  answering  the  reverent  obei 
sances  of  the  glittering  throng  as  it  parted  to  make 
way  for  him,  with  here  a  smile,  and  there  a  nod  of 
his  princely  head. 

And  when  he  awoke  in  the  morning  and  looked 
upon  the  wretchedness  about  him,  his  dream  had 
had  its  usual  effect  —  it  had  intensified  the  sordid- 
ness  of  his  surroundings  a  thousand  fold.  Then 
came  bitterness,  and  heart-break,  and  tears. 


CHAPTER   III. 

TOM'S  MEETING  WITH  THE  PRINCE 

TOM  got  up  hungry,  and  sauntered  hungry  away, 
but  with  his  thoughts  busy  with  the  shadowy 
splendors  of  his  night's  dreams.  He  wandered 
here  and  there  in  the  city,  hardly  noticing  where  he 
was  going,  or  what  was  happening  around  him. 
People  jostled  him  and  some  gave  him  rough 
speech ;  but  it  was  all  lost  on  the  musing  boy.  By 
and  by  he  found  himself  at  Temple  Bar,  the  farthest 
from  home  he  had  ever  traveled  in  that  direction. 
He  stopped  and  considered  a  moment,  then  fell  into 
his  imaginings  again,  and  passed  on  outside  the  walls 
of  London.  The  Strand  had  ceased  to  be  a  country- 
road  then,  and  regarded  itself  as  a  street,  but  by  a 
strained  construction ;  for,  though  there  was  a  toler 
ably  compact  row  of  houses  on  one  side  of  it,  there 
were  only  some  scattering  great  buildings  on  the 
other,  these  being  palaces  of  rich  nobles,  with  ample 
and  beautiful  grounds  stretching  to  the  river, — 
grounds  that  are  now  closely  packed  with  grim  acres 
of  brick  and  stone. 

Tom  discovered   Charing  Village   presently,    and 
rested  himself  at  the  beautiful  cross  built  there  by  a 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  27 

bereaved  king  of  earlier  days;  then  idled  down  a 
quiet,  lovely  road,  past  the  great  cardinal's  stately 
palace,  toward  a  far  more  mighty  and  majestic  palace 
beyond, —  Westminster.  Tom  stared  in  glad  wonder 
at  the  vast  pile  of  masonry,  the  wide-spreading 
wings,  the  frowning  bastions  and  turrets,  the  huge 
stone  gateway,  with  its  gilded  bars  and  its  magnifi 
cent  array  of  colossal  granite  lions,  and  the  other 
signs  and  symbols  of  English  royalty.  Was  the 
desire  of  his  soul  to  be  satisfied  at  last?  Here,  in 
deed,  was  a  king's  palace.  Might  he  not  hope  to 
see  a  prince  now, —  a  prince  of  flesh  and  blood,  if 
Heaven  were  willing? 

At  each  side  of  the  gilded  gate  stood  a  living 
statue,  that  is  to  say,  an  erect  and  stately  and 
motionless  man-at-arms,  clad  from  head  to  heel  in 
shining  steel  armor.  At  a  respectful  distance  were 
many  country  folk,  and  people  from  the  city,  wait 
ing  for  any  chance  glimpse  of  royalty  that  might 
offer.  Splendid  carriages,  with  splendid  people  in 
them  and  splendid  servants  outside,  were  arriving 
and  departing  by  several  other  noble  gateways  that 
pierced  the  royal  enclosure. 

Poor  little  Tom,  in  his  rags,  approached,  and  was 
moving  slowly  and  timidly  past  the  sentinels,  with  a 
beating  heart  and  a  rising  hope,  when  all  at  once  he 
caught  sight  through  the  golden  bars  of  a  spectacle 
that  almost  made  him  shout  for  joy.  Within  was  a 
comely  boy,  tanned  and  brown  with  sturdy  outdoor 
sports  and  exercises,  whose  clothing  was  all  of 


28  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

lovely  silks  and  satins,  shining  with  jewels;  at  his 
hip  a  little  jeweled  sword  and  dagger ;  dainty  buskins 
on  his  feet,  with  red  heels;  and  on  his  head  a  jaunty 
crimson  cap,  with  drooping  plumes  fastened  with  a 
great  sparkling  gem.  Several  gorgeous  gentlemen 
stood  near, —  his  servants,  without  a  doubt.  Oh! 
he  was  a  prince  —  a  prince,  a  living  prince,  a  real 
prince  —  without  the  shadow  of  a  question;  and 
the  prayer  of  the  pauper-boy's  heart  was  answered 
at  last. 

Tom's  breath  came  quick  and  short  with  excite 
ment,  and  his  eyes  grew  big  with  wonder  and  de 
light.  Everything  gave  way  in  his  mind  instantly 
to  one  desire :  that  was  to  get  close  to  the  prince, 
and  have  a  good,  devouring  look  at  him.  Before 
he  knew  what  he  was  about,  he  had  his  face  against 
the  gate-bars.  The  next  instant  one  of  the  soldiers 
snatched  him  rudely  away,  and  sent  him  spinning 
among  the  gaping  crowd  of  country  gawks  and 
London  idlers.  The  soldier  said: 

"  Mind  thy  manners,  thou  young  beggar !" 

The  crowd  jeered  and  laughed ;  but  the  young 
prince  sprang  to  the  gate  with  his  face  flushed,  and 
his  eyes  flashing  with  indignation,  and  cried  out: 

"How  dar'st  thou  use  a  poor  lad  like  that! 
How  dar'st  thou  use  the  king  my  father's  meanest 
subject  so  !  Open  the  gates,  and  let  him  in  !" 

You  should  have  seen  that  fickle  crowd  snatch  off 
their  hats  then.  You  should  have  heard  them 
cheer,  and  shout,  "  Long  live  the  Prince  of  Wales !" 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  29 

The  soldiers  presented  arms  with  their  halberds, 
opened  the  gates,  and   presented  again  as  the  little 
Prince  of   Poverty  passed   in,  in   his  fluttering  rags, 
to  join  hands  with  the  Prince  of  Limitless  Plenty. 
Edward  Tudor  said : 

'Thou   lookest  tired   and   hungry:   thou'st  been 
treated  ill.      Come  with  me." 

Half  a   dozen   attendants   sprang  forward  to  —  I 
don't  know   what;   interfere,   no   doubt.     But  they 
were   waved   aside   with   a   right   royal   gesture,  and 
they   stopped   stock   still   where   they   were,  like   so 
many  statues.      Edward  took  Tom   to  a  rich  apart 
ment  in  the  palace,  which  he  called  his  cabinet.     By 
his  command  a  repast  was  brought  such  as  Tom  had 
never    encountered    before    except    in   books.     The 
prince,    with    princely   delicacy   and   breeding,    sent 
away  the  servants,  so   that  his  humble  guest  might 
not  be  embarrassed  by  their  critical  presence ;   then 
he  sat  near  by,  and  asked  questions  while  Tom  ate. 
"What  is  thy  name,  lad?" 
:t  Tom  Canty,  an'  it  please  thee,  sir." 
"  'Tis  an  odd  one.     Where  dost  live?" 
;sln  the  city,  please  thee,  sir.     Offal  Court,  out 
of  Pudding  Lane." 

"  Offal  Court !  Truly,  'tis  another  odd  one.  Hast 
parents?" 

11  Parents  have  I,  sir,  and  a  grandam  likewise 
that  is  but  indifferently  precious  to  me,  God  forgive 
me  if  it  be  offense  to  say  it — also  twin  sisters,  Nan 
and  Bet." 

3 


30  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"Then  is  thy  grandam  not  over  kind  to  thee,  I 
take  it." 

"Neither  to  any  other  is  she,  so  please  your 
Worship.  She  hath  a  wicked  heart,  and  worketh 
evil  all  her  days." 

41  Doth  she  mistreat  thee?" 

"  There  be  times  that  she  stayeth  her  hand,  being 
asleep  or  overcome  with  drink ;  but  when  she  hath 
her  judgment  clear  again,  she  maketh  it  up  to  me 
with  goodly  beatings." 

A  fierce  look  came  into  the  little  prince's  eyes, 
and  he  cried  out : 

"What!     Beatings?" 

"  Oh,  indeed,  yes,  please  you,  sir." 

"  Beatings  !  —  and  thou  so  frail  and  little.  Hark 
ye :  before  the  night  come,  she  shall  hie  her  to  the 
Tower.  The  king  my  father — " 

"  In  sooth,  you  forget,  sir,  her  low  degree.  The 
Tower  is  for  the  great  alone." 

'True,  indeed.  I  had  not  thought  of  that.  I 
will  consider  of  her  punishment.  Is  thy  father  kind 
to  thee?" 

11  Not  more  than  Gammer  Canty,  sir." 

"  Fathers  be  alike,  mayhap.  Mine  hath  not  a  doll's 
temper.  He  smiteth  with  a  heavy  hand,  yet  spareth 
me :  he  spareth  me  not  always  with  his  tongue,  though, 
sooth  to  say.  How  doth  thy  mother  use  thee?" 

"  She  is  good,  sir,  and  giveth  me  neither  sorrow 
nor  pain  of  any  sort.  And  Nan  and  Bet  are  like  to 
her  in  this." 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  3! 

"How  old  be  these?" 

"  Fifteen,  an'  it  please  you,  sir." 

"  The  Lady  Elizabeth,  my  sister,  is  fourteen,  and 
the  Lady  Jane  Grey,  my  cousin,  is  of  mine  own  age, 
and  comely  and  gracious  withal ;  but  my  sister  the 
Lady  Mary,  with  her  gloomy  mien  and —  Look 
you :  do  thy  sisters  forbid  their  servants  to  smile, 
lest  the  sin  destroy  their  souls?" 

"They?  Oh,  dost  think,  sir,  that  they  have 
servants?" 

The  little  prince  contemplated  the  little  pauper 
gravely  a  moment,  then  said  : 

"  And  prithee,  why  not?  Who  helpeth  them  un 
dress  at  night?  who  attireth  them  when  they  rise?" 

"None,  sir.  Wouldst  have  them  take  off  their 
garment,  and  sleep  without, —  like  the  beasts?" 

"  Their  garment !     Have  they  but  one?" 

"Ah,  good  your  worship,  what  would  they  do 
with  more?  Truly,  they  have  not  two  bodies  each." 

"It  is  a  quaint  and  marvelous  thought!  Thy 
pardon,  I  had  not  meant  to  laugh.  But  thy  good 
Nan  and  thy  Bet  shall  have  raiment  and  lackeys 
enow,  and  that  soon,  too:  my  cofferer  shall  look  to 
it.  No,  thank  me  not;  'tis  nothing.  Thou  speak- 
est  well;  thou  hast  an  easy  grace  in  it.  Art 
learned?" 

"  I  know  not  if  I  am  or  not,  sir.  The  good  priest 
that  is  called  Father  Andrew  taught  me,  of  his  kind 
ness,  from  his  books." 

"  Know'st  thou  the  Latin?" 


32  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"  But  scantly,  sir,  I  doubt." 

"  Learn  it,  lad:  'tis  hard  only  at  first.  The 
Greek  is  harder ;  but  neither  these  nor  any  tongues 
else,  I  think,  are  hard  to  the  Lady  Elizabeth  and 
my  cousin.  Thou  shouldst  hear  those  damsels  at 
it !  But  tell  me  of  thy  Offal  Court.  Hast  thou  a 
pleasant  life  there?" 

"  In  truth,  yes,  so  please  you,  sir,  save  when  one 
is  hungry.  There  be  Punch-and-Judy  shows,  and 
monkeys, —  oh,  such  antic  creatures  !  and  so  bravely 
dressed !  —  and  there  be  plays  wherein  they  that 
play  do  shout  and  fight  till  all  are  slain,  and  'tis  so 
fine  to  see,  and  costeth  but  a  farthing — albeit  'tis 
main  hard  to  get  the  farthing,  please  your  worship." 

"  Tell  me  more." 

"We  lads  of  Offal  Court  do  strive  against  each 
other  with  the  cudgel,  like  to  the  fashion  of  the 
'prentices,  sometimes." 

The  prince's  eyes  flashed.     Said  he: 

"  Marry,  that  would  I  not  mislike.    Tell  me  more." 

'*  We  strive  in  races,  sir,  to  see  who  of  us  shall  be 
fleetest." 

"  That  would  I  like  also.     Speak  on." 

**  In  summer,  sir,  we  wade  and  swim  in  the  canals 
and  in  the  river,  and  each  doth  duck  his  neighbor, 
and  spatter  him  with  water,  and  dive  and  shout  and 
tumble  and — " 

11  'Twould  be  worth  my  father's  kingdom  but  to 
enjoy  it  once  !  Prithee  go  on." 

"We    dance    and    sing    about   the    Maypole    in 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  33 

Cheapside;  we  play  in  the  sand,  each  covering  his 
neighbor  up;  and  times  we  make  mud  pastry  —  oh, 
the  lovely  mud,  it  hath  not  its  like  for  delightfulness 
in  all  the  world  !  — we  do  fairly  wallow  in  the  mud, 
sir,  saving  your  worship's  presence." 

"Oh,  prithee,  say  no  more,  'tis  glorious!  If 
that  I  could  but  clothe  me  in  raiment  like  to  thine, 
and  strip  my  feet,  and  revel  in  the  mud  once,  just 
once,  with  none  to  rebuke  me  or  forbid,  meseemeth 
I  could  forego  the  crown  ! ' ' 

"And  if  that  I  could  clothe  me  once,  sweet  sir, 
as  thou  art  clad  —  just  once — " 

"  Oho,  wouldst  like  it?  Then  so  shall  it  be.  Doff 
thy  rags,  and  don  these  splendors,  lad  !  It  is  a  brief 
happiness,  but  will  be  not  less  keen  for  that.  We 
will  have  it  while  we  may,  and  change  again  before 
any  come  to  molest." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  little  Prince  of  Wales  was 
garlanded  with  Tom's  fluttering  odds  and  ends,  and 
the  little  Prince  of  Pauperdom  was  tricked  out  in  the 
gaudy  plumage  of  royalty.  The  two  went  and  stood 
side  by  side  before  a  great  mirror,  and  lo,  a  miracle: 
there  did  not  seem  to  have  been  any  change  made ! 
They  stared  at  each  other,  then  at  the  glass,  then  at 
each  other  again.  At  last  the  puzzled  princeling 
said : 

41  What  dost  thou  make  of  this?" 

"Ah,    good    your    worship,    require    me    not  to 
answer.     It   is    not    meet   that    one    of   my  degree 
should  utter  the  thing." 
3 


34  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

1  Then  will  /  utter  it.  Thou  hast  the  same  hair, 
the  same  eyes,  the  same  voice  and  manner,  the  same 
form  and  stature,  the  same  face  and  countenance, 
that  I  bear.  Fared  we  forth  naked,  there  is  none 
could  say  which  was  you,  and  which  the  Prince  of 
Wales.  And,  now  that  I  am  clothed  as  thou  wert 
clothed,  it  seemeth  I  should  be  able  the  more  nearly 
to  feel  as  thou  didst  when  the  brute  soldier  — 
Hark  ye,  is  not  this  a  bruise  upon  your  hand?" 

'Yes;  but  it  is  a  slight  thing,  and  your  worship 
knoweth  that  the  poor  man-at-arms  — ' ' 

1  Peace  !  It  was  a  shameful  thing  and  a  cruel ! ' ' 
cried  the  little  prince,  stamping  his  bare  foot.  "  If 
the  king —  Stir  not  a  step  till  I  come  again !  It 
is  a  command !" 

In  a  moment  he  had  snatched  up  and  put  away 
an  article  of  national  importance  that  lay  upon  a 
table,  and  was  out  at  the  door  and  flying  through 
the  palace  grounds  in  his  bannered  rags,  with  a  hot 
face  and  glowing  eyes.  As  soon  as  he  reached  the 
great  gate,  he  seized  the  bars,  and  tried  to  shake 
them,  shouting: 

' '  Open  !     Unbar  the  gates  ! ' ' 

The  soldier  that  had  maltreated  Tom  obeyed 
promptly;  and  as  the  prince  burst  through  the 
portal,  half-smothered  with  royal  wrath,  the  soldier 
fetched  him  a  sounding  box  on  the  ear  that  sent 
him  whirling  to  the  roadway,  and  said : 

"  Take  that,  thou  beggar's  spawn,  for  what  thou 
got'st  me  from  his  Highness!" 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  35 

The  crowd  roared  with  laughter.  The  prince 
picked  himself  out  of  the  mud,  and  made  fiercely  at 
the  sentry,  shouting: 

11 1  am  the  Prince  of  Wales,  my  person  is  sacred; 
and  thou  shalt  hang  for  laying  thy  hand  upon  me !" 

The  soldier  brought  his  halberd  to  a  present-arms 
and  said  mockingly: 

1 '  I  salute  your  gracious  Highness. ' '  Then  angrily, 
"  Be  off,  thou  crazy  rubbish !" 

Here  the  jeering  crowd  closed  around  the  poor 
little  prince,  and  hustled  him  far  down  the  road, 
hooting  him,  and  shouting,  "Way  for  his  royai 
Highness  !  way  for  the  Prince  of  Wales  !" 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE   PRINCE'S  TROUBLES   BEGIN 

AFTER  hours  of  persistent  pursuit  and  persecu 
tion,  the  little  prince  was  at  last  deserted  by 
the  rabble  and  left  to  himself.  As  long  as  he  had 
been  able  to  rage  against  the  mob,  and  threaten  it 
royally,  and  royally  utter  commands  that  were  good 
stuff  to  laugh  at,  he  was  very  entertaining;  but 
when  weariness  finally  forced  him  to  be  silent,  he 
was  no  longer  of  use  to  his  tormentors,  and  they 
sought  amusement  elsewhere.  He  looked  about  him 
now,  but  could  not  recognize  the  locality.  He  was 
within  the  city  of  London  —  that  was  all  he  knew. 
He  moved  on,  aimlessly,  and  in  a  little  while  the 
houses  thinned,  and  the  passers-by  were  infrequent. 
He  bathed  his  bleeding  feet  in  the  brook  which 
flowed  then  where  Farringdon  street  now  is ;  rested 
a  few  moments,  then  passed  on,  and  presently  came 
upon  a  great  space  with  only  a  few  scattered  houses 
in  it,  and  a  prodigious  church.  He  recognized  this 
church.  Scaffoldings  were  about,  everywhere,  and 
swarms  of  workmen  ;  for  it  was  undergoing  elaborate 
repairs.  The  prince  took  heart  at  once  —  he  felt 

(361 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  37 

that  his  troubles  were  at  an  end  now.  He  said  to 
himself,  "It  is  the  ancient  Grey  Friars'  church, 
which  the  king  my  father  hath  taken  from  the 
monks  and  given  for  a  home  forever  for  poor 
and  forsaken  children,  and  new-named  it  Christ's 
church.  Right  gladly  will  they  serve  the  son  of 
him  who  hath  done  so  generously  by  them  —  and 
the  more  that  that  son  is  himself  as  poor  and  as 
forlorn  as  any  that  be  sheltered  here  this  day,  or 
ever  shall  be." 

He  was  soon  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  boys  who 
were  running,  jumping,  playing  at  ball  and  leap-frog 
and  otherwise  disporting  themselves,  and  right 
noisily,  too.  They  were  all  dressed  alike,  and  in 
the  fashion  which  in  that  day  prevailed  among 
serving-men  and  'prentices* — that  is  to  say,  each 
had  on  the  crown  of  his  head  a  flat  black  cap  about 
the  size  of  a  saucer,  which  was  not  useful  as  a 
covering,  it  being  of  such  scanty  dimensions,  neither 
was  it  ornamental;  from  beneath  it  the  hair  fell, 
unparted,  to  the  middle  of  the  forehead,  and  was 
cropped  straight  around ;  a  clerical  band  at  the 
neck ;  a  blue  gown  that  fitted  closely  and  hung  as 
low  as  the  knees  or  lower ;  full  sleeves ;  a  broad  red 
belt;  bright  yellow  stockings,  gartered  above  the 
knees ;  low  shoes  with  large  metal  buckles.  It  was 
a  sufficiently  ugly  costume. 

The  boys  stopped  their  play  and  flocked  about 
the  prince,  who  said  with  native  dignity: 

*  See  Note  I,  at  end  of  the  volume. 


38  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"Good  lads,  say  to  your  master  that  Edward 
Prince  of  Wales  desireth  speech  with  him." 

A  great  shout  went  up  at  this,  and  one  rude 
fellow  said : 

"  Marry,  art  thou  his  grace's  messenger,  beggar?" 

The  prince's  face  flushed  with  anger,  and  his 
ready  hand  flew  to  his  hip,  but  there  was  nothing 
there.  There  was  a  storm  of  laughter,  and  one  boy 
said : 

"Didst  mark  that?  He  fancied  he  had  a  sword 
—  belike  he  is  the  prince  himself." 

This  sally  brought  more  laughter.  Poor  Edward 
drew  himself  up  proudly  and  said : 

"  I  am  the  prince;  and  it  ill  beseemeth  you  that 
feed  upon  the  king  my  father's  bounty  to  use  me 
so." 

This  was  vastly  enjoyed,  as  the  laughter  testified. 
The  youth  who  had  first  spoken  shouted  to  his 
comrades : 

"  Ho,  swine,  slaves,  pensioners  of  his  grace's 
princely  father,  where  be  your  manners?  Down  on 
your  marrow  bones,  all  of  ye,  and  do  reverence  to 
his  kingly  port  and  royal  rags  ! ' ' 

With  boisterous  mirth  they  dropped  upon  their 
knees  in  a  body  and  did  mock  homage  to  their  prey. 
The  prince  spurned  the  nearest  boy  with  his  foot, 
and  said  fiercely: 

**Take  thou  that,  till  the  morrow  come  and  I 
build  thee  a  gibbet ! ' ' 

Ah,  but   this   was    not    a   joke  —  this  was  going 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  }9 

beyond  fun.  The  laughter  ceased  on  the  instant, 
and  fury  took  its  place.  A  dozen  shouted: 

"Hale  him  forth!  To  the  horse-pond,  to  the 
horse-pond!  Where  be  the  dogs?  Ho,  there, 
Lion!  ho,  Fangs!" 

Then  followed  such  a  thing  as  England  had  never 
seen  before  —  the  sacred  person  of  the  heir  to  the 
throne  rudely  buffeted  by  plebeian  hands,  and  set 
upon  and  torn  by  dogs. 

As  night  drew  to  a  close  that  day,  the  prince 
found  himself  far  down  in  the  close-built  portion  of 
the  city.  His  body  was  bruised,  his  hands  were 
bleeding,  and  his  rags  were  all  besmirched  with  mud. 
He  wandered  on  and  on,  and  grew  more  and  more 
bewildered,  and  so  tired  and  faint  he  could  hardly 
drag  one  foot  after  the  other.  He  had  ceased  to 
ask  questions  of  any  one,  since  they  brought  him 
only  insult  instead  of  information.  He  kept  mutter 
ing  to  himself,  "  Offal  Court  —  that  is  the  name;  if 
I  can  but  find  it  before  my  strength  is  wholly  spent 
and  I  drop,  then  am  I  saved  —  for  his  people  will 
take  me  to  the  palace  and  prove  that  I  am  none  of 
theirs,  but  the  true  prince,  and  I  shall  have  mine 
own  again."  And  now  and  then  his  mind  reverted 
to  his  treatment  by  those  rude  Christ's  Hospital 
boys,  and  he  said,  "When  I  am  king,  they  shall 
not  have  bread  and  shelter  only,  but  also  teachings 
out  of  books ;  for  a  full  belly  is  little  worth  where 
the  mind  is  starved,  and  the  heart.  I  will  keep  this 
diligently  in  my  remembrance,  that  this  day's  lesson 


40  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

be  not  lost  upon  me,  and  my  people  suffer  thereby; 
for  learning  softeneth  the  heart  and  breedeth  gentle 
ness  and  charity."* 

The  lights  began  to  twinkle,  it  came  on  to  rain, 
the  wind  rose,  and  a  raw  and  gusty  night  set  in. 
The  houseless  prince,  the  homeless  heir  to  the 
throne  of  England,  still  moved  on,  drifting  deeper 
into  the  maze  of  squalid  alleys  where  the  swarming 
hives  of  poverty  and  misery  were  massed  together. 

Suddenly  a  great  drunken  ruffian  collared  him  and 
said : 

"Out  to  this  time  of  night  again,  and  hast  not 
brought  a  farthing  home,  I  warrant  me !  If  it  be 
so,  an'  I  do  not  break  all  the  bones  in  thy  lean 
body,  then  am  I  not  John  Canty,  but  some 
other." 

The  prince  twisted  himself  loose,  unconsciously 
brushed  his  profaned  shoulder,  and  eagerly  said : 

"  Oh,  art  his  father,  truly?  Sweet  heaven  grant 
it  be  so  —  then  wilt  thou  fetch  him  away  and  restore 
me!" 

11  His  father?  I  know  not  what  thou  mean'st;  I 
but  know  I  am  thy  father,  as  thou  shalt  soon  have 
cause  to — " 

"Oh,  jest  not,  palter  not,  delay  not!  —  I  am 
worn,  I  am  wounded,  I  can  bear  no  more.  Take 
me  to  the  king  my  father,  and  he  will  make  thee 
rich  beyond  thy  wildest  dreams.  Believe  me,  man, 
believe  me  !  —  I  speak  no  lie,  but  only  the  truth  I  •  — 


*  See  Note  2,  at  end  of  the  volume. 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  41 

put  forth  thy  hand  and  save  me  !  I  am  indeed  the 
Prince  of  Wales!" 

The  man  stared  down,  stupefied,  upon  the  lad, 
then  shook  his  head  and  muttered : 

4 '  Gone  stark  mad  as  any  Tom  o'  Bedlam!" — 
then  collared  him  once  more,  and  said  with  a  coarse 
laugh  and  an  oath,  "  But  mad  or  no  mad,  I  and  thy 
Gammer  Canty  will  soon  find  where  the  soft  places 
in  thy  bones  lie,  or  I'm  no  true  man  !" 

With  this  he  dragged  the  frantic  and  struggling 
prince  away,  and  disappeared  up  a  front  court  fol 
lowed  by  a  delighted  and  noisy  swarm  of  human 
vermin. 


CHAPTER   V. 

TOM  AS  A   PATRICIAN 

TOM  CANTY,  left  alone  in  the  prince's  cabinet, 
made  good  use  of  his  opportunity.  He  turned 
himself  this  way  and  that  before  the  great  mirror, 
admiring  his  finery;  then  walked  away,  imitating 
the  prince's  high-bred  carriage,  and  still  observing 
results  in  the  glass.  Next  he  drew  the  beautiful 
sword,  and  bowed,  kissing  the  blade,  and  laying  it 
across  his  breast,  as  he  had  seen  a  noble  knight  do, 
by  way  of  salute  to  the  lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  five 
or  six  weeks  before,  when  delivering  the  great  lords 
of  Norfolk  and  Surrey  into  his  hands  for  captivity. 
Tom  played  with  the  jeweled  dagger  that  hung  upon 
his  thigh ;  he  examined  the  costly  and  exquisite 
ornaments  of  the  room ;  he  tried  each  of  the  sump 
tuous  chairs,  and  thought  how  proud  he  would  be  if 
the  Offal  Court  herd  could  only  peep  in  and  see 
him  in  his  grandeur.  He  wondered  if  they  would 
believe  the  marvelous  tale  he  should  tell  when  he 
got  home,  or  if  they  would  shake  their  heads,  and 
say  his  overtaxed  imagination  had  at  last  upset  his 
reason. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  it  suddenly  occurred 

(42) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  43 

to  him  that  the  prince  was  gone  a  long  time ;  then 
right  away  he  began  to  feel  lonely;  very  soon  he 
fell  to  listening  and  longing,  and  ceased  to  toy  with 
the  pretty  things  about  him ;  he  grew  uneasy,  then 
restless,  then  distressed.  Suppose  some  one  should 
come,  and  catch  him  in  the  prince's  clothes,  and  the 
prince  not  there  to  explain.  Might  they  not  hang 
him  at  once,  and  inquire  into  his  case  afterward? 
He  had  heard  that  the  great  were  prompt  about 
small  matters.  His  fears  rose  higher  and  higher; 
and  trembling  he  softly  opened  the  door  to  the  ante 
chamber,  resolved  to  fly  and  seek  the  prince,  and, 
through  him,  protection  and  release.  Six  gorgeous 
gentlemen-servants  and  two  young  pages  of  high 
degree,  clothed  like  butterflies,  sprung  to  their  feet, 
and  bowed  low  before  him.  He  stepped  quickly 
back,  and  shut  the  door.  He  said: 

"  Oh,  they  mock  at  me !  They  will  go  and  tell. 
Oh  !  why  came  I  here  to  cast  away  my  life?" 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  floor,  filled  with 
nameless  fears,  listening,  starting  at  every  trifling 
sound.  Presently  the  door  swung  open,  and  a  silken 
page  said : 

"The  Lady  Jane  Grey." 

The  door  closed,  and  a  sweet  young  girl,  richly 
clad,  bounded  toward  him.  But  she  stopped  sud 
denly,  and  said  in  a  distressed  voice : 

"  Oh,  what  aileth  thee,  my  Ijrd?" 

Tom's  breath  was  nearly  failing  him ;  but  he  made 
shift  to  stammer  out : 


44  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"Ah,  be  merciful,  thou !  In  sooth  I  am  no 
lord,  but  only  poor  Tom  Canty  of  Offal  Court  in 
the  city.  Prithee  let  me  see  the  prince,  and  he  will 
of  his  grace  restore  to  me  my  rags,  and  let  me 
hence  unhurt.  Oh,  be  thou  merciful,  and  save  me  !" 

By  this  time  the  boy  was  on  his  knees,  and  sup 
plicating  with  his  eyes  and  uplifted  hands  as  well  as 
with  his  tongue.  The  young  girl  seemed  horror- 
stricken.  She  cried  out: 

11  Oh,  my  lord,  on  thy  knees?  —  and  to  me  /" 

Then  she  fled  away  in  fright;  and  Tom,  smitten 
with  despair,  sank  down,  murmuring: 

"There  is  no  help,  there  is  no  hope.  Now  will 
they  come  and  take  me." 

Whilst  he  lay  there  benumbed  with  terror,  dread 
ful  tidings  were  speeding  through  the  palace.  The 
whisper,  for  it  was  whispered  always,  flew  from 
menial  to  menial,  from  lord  to  lady,  down  all  the 
long  corridors,  from  story  to  story,  from  saloon  to 
saloon,  "The  prince  hath  gone  mad,  the  prince 
hath  gone  mad  !"  Soon  every  saloon,  every  marble 
hall,  had  its  groups  of  glittering  lords  and  ladies,  and 
other  groups  of  dazzling  lesser  folk,  talking  earnestly 
together  in  whispers,  and  every  face  had  in  it  dismay. 
Presently  a  splendid  official  came  marching  by  these 
groups,  making  solemn  proclamation : 

"  IN  THE  NAME  OF  THE  KING. 
Let  none  list  to  this  false  and  foolish  matter,  upon 
pain   of  death,  nor  discuss  the   same,  nor  carry  it 
abroad.     In  the  name  of  the  king!" 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  45 

The  whisperings  ceased  as  suddenly  as  if  the 
whisperers  had  been  stricken  dumb. 

Soon  there  was  a  general  buzz  along  the  corridors, 
of  "  The  prince  !  See,  the  prince  comes  !" 

Poor  Tom  came  slowly  walking  past  the  low- 
bowing  groups,  trying  to  bow  in  return,  and  meekly 
gazing  upon  his  strange  surroundings  with  bewil 
dered  and  pathetic  eyes.  Great  nobles  walked  upon 
each  side  of  him,  making  him  lean  upon  them,  and 
so  steady  his  steps.  Behind  him  followed  the  court 
physicians  and  some  servants. 

Presently  Tom  found  himself  in  a  noble  apartment 
of  the  palace,  and  heard  the  door  close  behind  him. 
Around  him  stood  those  who  had  come  with  him. 

Before  him,  at  a  little  distance,  reclined  a  very 
large  and  very  fat  man,  with  a  wide,  pulpy  face,  and 
a  stern  expression.  His  large  head  was  very  gray; 
and  his  whiskers,  which  he  wore  only  around  his 
face,  like  a  frame,  were  gray  also.  His  clothing 
was  of  rich  stuff,  but  old,  and  slightly  frayed  in 
places.  One  of  his  swollen  legs  had  a  pillow  under 
it,  and  was  wrapped  in  bandages.  There  was  silence 
now ;  and  there  was  no  head  there  but  was  bent  in 
reverence,  except  this  man's.  This  stern-counte 
nanced  invalid  was  the  dread  Henry  VIII.  He  said, 
—  and  his  face  grew  gentle  as  he  began  to  speak : 

"  How  now,  my  lord  Edward,  my  prince?  Hast 
been  minded  to  cozen  me,  the  good  king  thy  father, 
who  loveth  thee,  and  kindly  useth  thee,  with  a  sotry 
jest?" 


46  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

Poor  Tom  was  listening,  as  well  as  his  dazed 
faculties  would  let  him,  to  the  beginning  of  this 
speech;  but  when  the  words  "me  the  good  king" 
fell  upon  his  ear,  his  face  blanched,  and  he  dropped 
as  instantly  upon  his  knees  as  if  a  shot  had  brought 
him  there.  Lifting  up  his  hands,  he  exclaimed : 
'Thou  the  king?  Then  am  I  undone  indeed!" 

This  speech  seemed  to  stun  the  king.  His  eyes 
wandered  from  face  to  face  aimlessly,  then  rested, 
bewildered,  upon  the  boy  before  him.  Then  he 
said  in  a  tone  of  deep  disappointment : 

'*  Alack,  I  had  believed  the  rumor  disproportioned 
to  the  truth;  but  I  fear  me  'tis  not  so."  He 
breathed  a  heavy  sigh,  and  said  in  a  gentle  voice, 
11  Come  to  thy  father,  child;  thou  art  not  well." 

Tom  was  assisted  to  his  feet,  and  approached  the 
Majesty  of  England,  humble  and  trembling.  The 
king  took  the  frightened  face  between  his  hands, 
and  gazed  earnestly  and  lovingly  into  it  awhile,  as  if 
seeking  some  grateful  sign  of  returning  reason  there, 
then  pressed  the  curly  head  against  his  breast,  and 
patted  it  tenderly.  Presently  he  said  : 

"Dost  thou  know  thy  father,  child?  Break  not 
mine  old  heart;  say  thou  know'st  me.  Thou  dost 
know  me,  dost  thou  not?" 

'Yea;  thou  art  my  dread  lord  the  king,  whom 
God  preserve!" 

'  True,  true  —  that  is  well  —  be  comforted,  trem 
ble  not  so ;  there  is  none  here  who  would  hurt  thee ; 
there  is  none  here  but  loves  thee.  Thou  art  better 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  47 

now;  thy  ill  dream  passeth  —  is't  not  so?  And 
thou  knovvest  thyself  now  also  —  is't  not  so?  Thou 
wilt  not  miscall  thyself  again,  as  they  say  thou  didst 
a  little  while  agone?" 

"  1  pray  thee  of  thy  grace  believe  me,  I  did  but 
speak  the  truth,  most  dread  lord;  for  I  am  the 
meanest  among  thy  subjects,  being  a  pauper  born, 
and  'tis  by  a  sore  mischance  and  accident  I  am 
here,  albeit  I  was  therein  nothing  blameful.  I  am 
but  young  to  die,  and  thou  canst  save  me  with  one 
little  word.  Oh,  speak  it,  sir!" 

"  Die?  Talk  not  so,  sweet  prince  —  peace,  peace, 
to  thy  troubled  heart  —  thou  shalt  not  die  !" 

Tom  dropped  upon  his  knees  with  a  glad  cry : 

"  God  requite  thy  mercy,  oh  my  king,  and  save 
thee  long  to  bless  thy  land!"  Then  springing  up, 
he  turned  a  joyful  face  toward  the  two  lords  in 
waiting,  and  exclaimed,  "Thou  heard'st  it!  I  am 
not  to  die:  the  king  hath  said  it!"  There  was  no 
movement,  save  that  all  bowed  with  grave  respect; 
but  no  one  spoke.  He  hesitated,  a  little  confused, 
then  turned  timidly  toward  the  king,  saying,  "  I  may 
go  now?" 

"Go?  Surely,  if  thou  desirest.  But  why  not 
tarry  yet  a  little?  Whither  wouldst  go?" 

Tom  dropped  his  eyes,  and  answered  humbly: 

"  Peradventure  I  mistook;  but  I  did  think  me 
free,  and  so  was  I  moved  to  seek  again  the  kennel 
where  I  was  born  and  bred  to  misery,  yet  which 
harboreth  my  mother  and  my  sisters,  and  so  is  home 


48  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

to  me;  whereas  these  pomps  and  splendors  where- 
unto  I  am  not  used  —  oh,  please  you,  sir,  to  let  me 
go!" 

The  king  was  silent  and  thoughtful  a  while,  and 
his  face  betrayed  a  growing  distress  and  uneasiness. 
Presently  he  said,  with  something  of  hope  in  his 
voice : 

"  Perchance  he  is  but  mad  upon  this  one  strain, 
and  hath  his  wits  unmarred  as  toucheth  other  matter. 
God  send  it  may  be  so  !  We  will  make  trial." 

Then  he  asked  Tom  a  question  in  Latin,  and  Tom 
answered  him  lamely  in  the  same  tongue.  The  king 
was  delighted,  and  showed  it.  The  lords  and  doc 
tors  manifested  their  gratification  also.  The  king 
said: 

"  'Twas  not  according  to  his  schooling  and  ability, 
but  sheweth  that  his  mind  is  but  diseased,  not 
stricken  fatally.  How  say  you,  sir?" 

The  physician  addressed  bowed  low,  and  replied : 

11  It  jumpeth  with  mine  own  conviction,  sire,  that 
thou  hast  divined  aright." 

The  king  looked  pleased  with  this  encouragement, 
coming  as  it  did  from  so  excellent  authority,  and 
continued  with  good  heart: 

11  Now  mark  ye  all:   we  will  try  him  further." 

He  put  a  question  to  Tom  in  French.  Tom  stood 
silent  -a  moment,  embarrassed  by  having  so  many 
eyes  centered  upon  him,  then  said  diffidently: 

"I  have  no  knowledge  of  this  tongue,  so  please 
your  majesty." 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  49 

The  king  fell  back  upon  his  couch.  The  attendants 
flew  to  his  assistance;  but  he  put  them  aside,  and 
said : 

'Trouble  me  not  —  it  is  nothing  but  a  scurvy 
faintness.  Raise  me !  there,  'tis  sufficient.  Come 
hither,  child ;  there,  rest  thy  poor  troubled  head 
upon  thy  father's  heart,  and  be  at  peace.  Thou'lt 
soon  be  well;  'tis  but  a  passing  fantasy.  Fear  thou 
not;  thou 'It  soon  be  well."  Then  he  turned  toward 
the  company;  his  gentle  manner  changed,  and  bale 
ful  lightnings  began  to  play  from  his  eyes.  He 
said : 

"  List  ye  all !  This  my  son  is  mad  ;  but  it  is  not 
permanent.  Overstudy  hath  done  this,  and  some 
what  too  much  of  confinement.  Away  with  his 
books  and  teachers !  see  ye  to  it.  Pleasure  him 
with  sports,  beguile  him  in  wholesome  ways,  so  that 
his  health  come  again."  He  raised  himself  higher 
still,  and  went  on  with  energy.  "  He  is  mad;  but 
he  is  my  son,  and  England's  heir;  and,  mad  or 
sane,  still  shall  he  reign  !  And  hear  ye  further,  and 
proclaim  it:  whoso  speaketh  of  this  his  distemper 
worketh  against  the  peace  and  order  of  these  realms, 

and  shall  to  the  gallows  ! Give  me  to  drink  — 

I   burn:    This   sorrow   sappeth    my   strength 

There,  take  away  the  cup Support  me.    There, 

that  is  well.  Mad,  is  he?  Were  he  a  thousand 
times  mad,  yet  is  he  Prince  of  Wales,  and  I  the 
king  will  confirm  it.  This  very  morrow  shall  he  be 
installed  in  his  princely  dignity  in  due  and  ancient 
4 


50  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

form.     Take  instant  order  for  it,  my  Lord   Hert 
ford." 

One  of  the  nobles  knelt  at  the  royal  couch,  and 
said: 

"  The  king's  majesty  knoweth  that  the  Hereditary 
Great  Marshal  of  England  lieth  attainted  in  the 
Tower.  It  were  not  meet  that  one  attainted  — ' ' 

14  Peace!  Insult  not  mine  ears  with  his  hated 
name.  Is  this  man  to  live  forever?  Am  I  to  be 
balked  of  my  will?  Is  the  prince  to  tarry  unin- 
stalled,  because,  forsooth,  the  realm  lacketh  an  earl 
marshal  free  of  treasonable  taint  to  invest  him  with 
his  honors?  No,  by  the  splendor  of  God!  Warn 
my  parliament  to  bring  me  Norfolk's  doom  before 
the  sun  rise  again,  else  shall  they  answer  for  it 
grievously !" 

Lord  Hertford  said : 

'The  king's  will  is  law;"  and,  rising,  returned 
to  his  former  place. 

Gradually  the  wrath  faded  out  of  the  old  king's 
face,  and  he  said : 

"  Kiss  me,  my  prince.     There what  fearest 

thou?     Am  I  not  thy  loving  father?" 

'  Thou  art  good  to  me  that  am  unworthy,  O 
mighty  and  gracious  lord;  that  in  truth  I  know. 
But  —  but  —  it  grieveth  me  to  think  of  him  that  is 
to  die,  and — " 

"Ah,  'tis  like  thee,  'tis  like  thee !  I  know  thy 
heart  is  still  the  same,  even  though  thy  mind  hath 

*  See  Note  3,  at  end  of  the  volume. 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  51 

suffered  hurt,  for  thou  wert  ever  of  a  gentle  spirit. 
But  this  duke  standeth  between  thee  and  thine 
honors :  I  will  have  another  in  his  stead  that  shall 
bring  no  taint  to  his  great  office.  Comfort  thee,  my 
prince  :  trouble  not  thy  poor  head  with  this  matter. ' ' 

"  But  is  it  not  I  that  speed  him  hence,  my  liege? 
How  long  might  he  not  live,  but  for  me?" 

'  Take  no  thought  of  him,  my  prince:  he  is  not 
worthy.  Kiss  me  once  again,  and  go  to  thy  trifles 
and  amusements;  for  my  malady  distresseth  me.  I 
am  aweary,  and  would  rest.  Go  with  thine  uncle 
Hertford  and  thy  people,  and  come  again  when  my 
body  is  refreshed." 

Tom,  heavy-hearted,  was  conducted  from  the 
presence,  for  this  last  sentence  was  a  death-blow  to 
the  hope  he  had  cherished  that  now  he  would  be  set 
free.  Once  more  he  heard  the  buzz  of  low  voices 
exclaiming,  "The  prince,  the  prince  comes!" 

His  spirits  sank  lower  and  lower  as  he  moved  be 
tween  the  glittering  files  of  bowing  courtiers ;  for  he 
recognized  that  he  was  indeed  a  captive  now,  and 
might  remain  forever  shut  up  in  this  gilded  cage,  a 
forlorn  and  friendless  prince,  except  God  in  his 
mercy  take  pity  on  him  and  set  him  free. 

And,  turn  where  he  would,  he  seemed  to  see 
floating  in  the  air  the  severed  head  and  the  remem 
bered  face  of  the  great  Duke  of  Norfolk,  the  eyes 
fixed  on  him  reproachfully. 

His  old  dreams  had  been  so  pleasant;  but  this 
reality  was  so  dreary ! 


CHAPTER   VI. 

TOM   RECEIVES  INSTRUCTIONS 

TOM  was  conducted  to  the  principal  apartment  of 
a  noble  suite,  and  made  to  sit  down  —  a  thing 
which  he  was  loath  to  do,  since  there  were  elderly 
men  and  men  of  high  degree  about  him.  He  begged 
them  to  be  seated,  also,  but  they  only  bowed  their 
thanks  or  murmured  them,  and  remained  standing. 
He  would  have  insisted,  but  his  "  uncle,"  the  Earl 
of  Hertford,  whispered  in  his  ear: 

"  Prithee,  insist  not,  my  lord;  it  is  not  meet  that 
they  sit  in  thy  presence." 

The  Lord  St.  John  was  announced,  and,  after 
making  obeisance  to  Tom,  he  said: 

"  I  come  upon  the  king's  errand,  concerning  a 
matter  which  requireth  privacy.  Will  it  please  your 
royal  Highness  to  dismiss  all  that  attend  you  here, 
save  my  lord  the  Earl  of  Hertford?" 

Observing  that  Tom  did  not  seem  to  know  how 
to  proceed,  Hertford  whispered  him  to  make  a  sign 
with  his  hand  and  not  trouble  himself  to  speak  un 
less  he  chose.  When  the  waiting  gentlemen  had 
retired,  Lord  St.  John  said: 

"  His  majesty  commandeth,  that  for  due  and 

(52) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  53 

weighty  reasons  of  state,  the  prince's  grace  shall 
hide  his  infirmity  in  all  ways  that  be  within  his 
power,  till  it  be  passed  and  he  be  as  he  was  before. 
To  wit,  that  he  shall  deny  to  none  that  he  is  the 
true  prince,  and  heir  to  England's  greatness;  that 
he  shall  uphold  his  princely  dignity,  and  shall  re 
ceive,  without  word  or  sign  of  protest,  that  rever 
ence  and  observance  which  unto  it  do  appertain  of 
right  and  ancient  usage;  that  he  shall  cease  to 
speak  to  any  of  that  lowly  birth  and  life  his  malady 
hath  conjured  out  of  the  unwholesome  imaginings  of 
overwrought  fancy;  that  he  shall  strive  with  diligence 
to  bring  unto  his  memory  again  those  faces  which 
he  was  wont  to  know  —  and  where  he  faileth  he  shall 
hold  his  peace,  neither  betraying  by  semblance  of 
surprise,  or  other  sign,  that  he  hath  forgot;  that 
upon  occasions  of  state,  whensoever  any  matter 
shall  perplex  him  as  to  the  thing  he  should  do  or 
the  utterance  he  should  make,  he  shall  show  nought 
of  unrest  to  the  curious  that  look  on,  but  take  ad 
vice  in  that  matter  of  the  Lord  Hertford,  or  my 
humble  self,  which  are  commanded  of  the  king  to 
be  upon  this  service  and  close  at  call,  till  this  com 
mandment  be  dissolved.  Thus  saith  the  king's 
majesty,  who  sendeth  greeting  to  your  royal  high 
ness  and  prayeth  that  God  will  of  His  mercy  quickly 
heal  you  and  have  you  now  and  ever  in  His  holy 
keeping." 

The    Lord    St.  John    made    reverence   and    stood 
aside.      Tom  replied,  resignedly: 


54  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

'The  king  hath  said  it.  None  may  palter  with 
the  king's  command,  or  fit  it  to  his  ease,  where  it 
doth  chafe,  with  deft  evasions.  The  king  shall  be 
obeyed." 

Lord  Hertford  said : 

"  Touching  the  king's  majesty's  ordainment  con 
cerning  books  and  such  like  serious  matters,  it  may 
peradventure  please  your  Highness  to  ease  your 
time  with  lightsome  entertainment,  lest  you  go 
wearied  to  the  banquet  and  suffer  harm  thereby." 

Tom's  face  showed  inquiring  surprise;  and  a 
blush  followed  when  he  saw  lord  St.  John's  eyes 
bent  sorrowfully  upon  him.  His  lordship  said  : 

* '  Thy  memory  still  wrongeth  thee,  and  thou  hast 
shown  surprise  —  but  suffer  it  not  to  trouble  thee, 
for  'tis  a  matter  that  will  not  bide,  but  depart  with 
thy  mending  malady.  My  lord  of  Hertford  speak- 
eth  of  the  city's  banquet  which  the  king's  majesty 
did  promise  two  months  flown,  your  highness  should 
attend.  Thou  recallest  it  now?" 

14  It  grieves  me  to  confess  it  had  indeed  escaped 
me,"  said  Tom,  in  a  hesitating  voice ;  and  blushed 
again. 

At  that  moment  the  Lady  Elizabeth  and  the  Lady 
Jane  Grey  were  announced.  The  two  lords  ex 
changed  significant  glances,  and  Hertford  stepped 
quickly  toward  the  door.  As  the  young  girls  passed 
him,  he  said  in  a  low  voice : 

"I  pray  ye,  ladies,  seem  not  to  observe  his 
humors,  nor  show  surprise  when  his  memory  doth 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  55 

lapse  —  it  will  grieve  you  to   note  how  it  doth  stick 
at  every  trifle." 

Meanwhile  Lord  St.  John  was  saying  in  Tom's 
ear: 

'  Please  you,  sir,  keep  diligently  in  mind  his 
majesty's  desire.  Remember  all  thou  canst — Seem 
to  remember  all  else.  Let  them  not  perceive  that 
thou  art  much  changed  from  thy  wont,  for  thou 
knowest  how  tenderly  thy  old  playfellows  bear  thee 
in  their  hearts  and  how  'twould  grieve  them.  Art 
willing,  sir,  that  I  remain?  —  and  thine  uncle?" 

Tom  signified  assent  with  a  gesture  and  a  mur 
mured  word,  for  he  was  already  learning,  and  in  his 
simple  heart  was  resolved  to  acquit  himself  as  best 
he  might,  according  to  the  king's  command. 

In  spite  of  every  precaution,  the  conversation 
among  the  young  people  became  a  little  embarrassing 
at  times.  More  than  once,  in  truth,  Tom  was  near 
to  breaking  down  and  confessing  himself  unequal  to 
his  tremendous  part;  but  the  tact  of  the  Princess 
Elizabeth  saved  him,  or  a  word  from  one  or  the 
other  of  the  vigilant  lords,  thrown  in  apparently  by 
chance,  had  the  same  happy  effect.  Once  the  little 
Lady  Jane  turned  to  Tom  and  dismayed  him  with 
this  question : 

"  Hast  paid  thy  duty  to  the  queen's  majesty  to 
day,  my  lord?" 

Tom  hesitated,  looked  distressed,  and  was  about 
to  stammer  out  something  at  hazard,  when  lord  St. 
John  took  the  word  and  answered  for  him  with  the 


56  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

easy  grace   of  a   courtier   accustomed   to   encounter 
delicate  difficulties  and  to  be  ready  for  them : 

"  He  hath  indeed,  madam,  and  she  did  greatly 
hearten  him,  as  touching  his  majesty's  condition; 
is  it  not  so,  your  highness?  " 

Tom  mumbled  something  that  stood  for  assent, 
but  felt  that  he  was  getting  upon  dangerous  ground. 
Somewhat  later  it  was  mentioned  that  Tom  was  to 
study  no  more  at  present,  whereupon  her  little  lady 
ship  exclaimed : 

'Tis  a  pity,  'tis  such  a  pity!  Thou  were  pro 
ceeding  bravely.  But  bide  thy  time  in  patience ;  it 
will  not  be  for  long.  Thou 'It  yet  be  graced  with 
learning  like  thy  father,  and  make  thy  tongue  master 
of  as  many  languages  as  his,  good  my  prince." 

"My  father!"  cried  Tom,  off  his  guard  for  the 
moment.  "  I  trow  he  cannot  speak  his  own  so  that 
any  but  the  swine  that  wallow  in  the  sties  may  tell  his 
meaning;  and  as  for  learning  of  any  sort  soever — " 

He  looked  up  and  encountered  a  solemn  warning 
in  my  lord  St.  John's  eyes. 

He  stopped,  blushed,  then  continued  low  and 
sadly:  "Ah,  my  malady  persecuteth  me  again,  and 
my  mind  wandereth.  I  meant  the  king's  grace  no 
irreverence." 

"We  know  it,  sir,"  said  the  Princess  Elizabeth, 
taking  her  "brother's"  hand  between  her  two 
palms,  respectfully  but  caressingly;  "trouble  not 
thyself  as  to  that.  The  fault  is  none  of  thine,  but 
thy  distemper's." 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  57 

"  Thou'rt  a  gentle  comforter,  sweet  lady,"  said 
Tom,  gratefully,  "and  my  heart  moveth  me  to 
thank  thee  for't,  an'  I  may  be  so  bold." 

Once  the  giddy  little  Lady  Jane  fired  a  simple 
Greek  phrase  at  Tom.  The  Princess  Elizabeth's 
quick  eye  saw  by  the  serene  blankness  of  the  tar 
get's  front  that  the  shaft  was  overshot;  so  she  tran 
quilly  delivered  a  return  volley  of  sounding  Greek 
on  Tom's  behalf,  and  then  straightway  changed  the 
talk  to  other  matters. 

Time  wore  on  pleasantly,  and  likewise  smoothly, 
on  the  whole.  Snags  and  sandbars  grew  less  and  less 
frequent,  and  Tom  grew  more  and  more  at  his  ease, 
seeing  that  all  were  so  lovingly  bent  upon  helping 
him  and  overlooking  his  mistakes.  When  it  came 
out  that  the  little  ladies  were  to  accompany  him  to 
the  Lord  Mayor's  banquet  in  the  evening,  his  heart 
gave  a  bound  of  relief  and  delight,  for  he  felt  that 
he  should  not  be  friendless  now,  among  that  multi 
tude  of  strangers,  whereas,  an  hour  earlier,  the  idea 
of  their  going  with  him  would  have  been  an  insup 
portable  terror  to  him. 

Tom's  guardian  angels,  the  two  lords,  had  had 
less  comfort  in  the  interview  than  the  other  parties 
to  it.  They  felt  much  as  if  they  were  piloting  a 
great  ship  through  a  dangerous  channel ;  they  were 
on  the  alert  constantly,  and  found  their  office  no 
child's  play.  Wherefore,  at  last,  when  the  ladies' 
visit  was  drawing  to  a  close  and  the  Lord  Guilford 
Dudley  was  announced,  they  not  only  felt  that  their 


58  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

charge  had  been  sufficiently  taxed  for  the  present, 
but  also  that  they  themselves  were  not  in  the  best 
condition  to  take  their  ship  back  and  make  their 
anxious  voyage  all  over  again.  So  they  respect 
fully  advised  Tom  to  excuse  himself,  which  he  was 
very  glad  to  do,  although  a  slight  shade  of  disap 
pointment  might  have  been  observed  upon  my  Lady 
Jane's  face  when  she  heard  the  splendid  stripling 
denied  admittance. 

There  was  a  pause  now,  a  sort  of  waiting  silence 
which  Tom  could  not  understand.  He  glanced  at 
Lord  Hertford,  who  gave  him  a  sign  —  but  he  failed 
to  understand  that  also.  The  ready  Elizabeth  came 
to  the  rescue  with  her  usual  easy  grace.  She  made 
reverence  and  said : 

11  Have  we  leave  of  the  prince's  grace  my  brother 
to  go?" 

Tom  said : 

"  Indeed,  your  ladyships  can  have  whatsoever  of 
me  they  will,  for  the  asking;  yet  would  I  rather 
give  them  any  other  thing  that  in  my  poor  power 
lieth,  than  leave  to  take  the  light  and  blessing  of 
their  presence  hence.  Give  ye  good  den,  and  God 
be  with  ye!"  Then  he  smiled  inwardly  at  the 
thought,  "  'tis  not  for  nought  I  have  dwelt  but 
among  princes  in  my  reading,  and  taught  my  tongue 
some  slight  trick  of  their  broidered  and  gracious 
speech  withal!" 

When  the  illustrious  maidens  were  gone,  Tom 
turned  wearily  to  his  keepers  and  said ; 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  59 

"  May  it  please  your  lordships  to  grant  me  leave 
to  go  into  some  corner  and  rest  me !" 

Lord  Hertford  said : 

11  So  please  your  Highness,  it  is  for  you  to  com 
mand,  it  is  for  us  to  obey.  That  thou  shouldst  rest, 
is  indeed  a  needful  thing,  since  thou  must  journey 
to  the  city  presently." 

He  touched  a  bell,  and  a  page  appeared,  who  was 
ordered  to  desire  the  presence  of  Sir  William 
Herbert.  This  gentleman  came  straightway,  and 
conducted  Tom  to  an  inner  apartment.  Tom's  first 
movement  there  was  to  reach  for  a  cup  of  water; 
but  a  silk-and-velvet  servitor  seized  it,  dropped  upon 
one  knee,  and  offered  it  to  him  on  a  golden  salver. 

Next,  the  tired  captive  sat  down  and  was  going  to 
take  off  his  buskins,  timidly  asking  leave  with  his 
eye,  but  another  silk-and-velvet  discomforter  went 
down  upon  his  knees  and  took  the  office  from  him. 
He  made  two  or  three  further  efforts  to  help  him 
self,  but  being  promptly  forestalled  each  time,  he 
finally  gave  up,  with  a  sigh  of  resignation  and  a 
murmured  "  Beshrew  me,  but  I  marvel  they  do  not 
require  to  breathe  for  me  also!"  Slippered,  and 
wrapped  in  a  sumptuous  robe,  he  laid  himself  down 
at  last  to  rest,  but  not  to  sleep,  for  his  head  was  too 
full  of  thoughts  and  the  room  too  full  of  people. 
He  could  not  dismiss  the  former,  so  they  stayed ;  he 
did  not  know  enough  to  dismiss  the  latter,  so  they 
stayed  also,  to  his  vast  regret — and  theirs. 


60  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

Tom's  departure  had  left  his  two  noble  guardians 
alone.  They  mused  a  while,  with  much  headshaking 
and  walking  the  floor,  then  Lord  St.  John  said : 

11  Plainly,  what  dost  thou  think?" 

"  Plainly,  then,  this.  The  king  is  near  his  end,  my 
nephew  is  mad,  mad  will  mount  the  throne,  and  mad 
remain.  God  protect  England,  since  she  will  need  it !" 

1  Verily  it  promiseth  so,  indeed.  But have 

you  no  misgivings  as  to as  to " 

The  speaker  hesitated,  and  finally  stopped.  He 
evidently  felt  that  he  was  upon  delicate  ground. 
Lord  Hertford  stopped  before  him,  looked  into  his 
face  with  a  clear,  frank  eye,  and  said: 

"  Speak  on  —  there  is  none  to  hear  but  me.  Mis 
givings  as  to  what?" 

11  I  am  full  loath  to  word  the  thing  that  is  in  my 
mind,  and  thou  so  near  to  him  in  blood,  my  lord. 
But  craving  pardon  if  I  do  offend,  seemeth  it  not 
strange  that  madness  could  so  change  his  port  and 
manner !  —  not  but  that  his  port  and  speech  are 
princely  still,  but  that  they  differ  in  one  unweighty 
trifle  or  another,  from  what  his  custom  was  afore 
time.  Seemeth  it  not  strange  that  madness  should 
filch  from  his  memory  his  father's  very  lineaments; 
the  customs  and  observances  that  are  his  due  from 
such  as  be  about  him;  and,  leaving  him  his  Latin, 
strip  him  of  his  Greek  and  French?  My  lord,  be 
not  offended,  but  ease  my  mind  of  its  disquiet  and 
receive  my  grateful  thanks.  It  haunteth  me,  his 
saying  he  was  not  the  prince,  and  so — " 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  61 

"Peace,  my  lord,  thou  utterest  treason!  Hast 
forgot  the  king's  command?  Remember  I  am  party 
to  thy  crime,  if  I  but  listen." 

St.  John  paled,  and  hastened  to  say: 

"  I  was  in  fault,  I  do  confess  it.  Betray  me  not, 
grant  me  this  grace  out  of  thy  courtesy,  and  I  will 
neither  think  nor  speak  of  this  thing  more.  Deal 
not  hardly  with  me,  sir,  else  am  I  ruined." 

"I  am  content,  my  lord.  So  thou  offend  not 
again,  here  or  in  the  ears  of  others,  it  shall  be  as 
though  thou  hadst  not  spoken.  But  thou  needst 
not  have  misgivings.  He  is  my  sister's  son;  are 
not  his  voice,  his  face,  his  form,  familiar  to  me  from 
his  cradle?  Madness  can  do  all  the  odd  conflicting 
things  thou  seest  in  him,  and  more.  Dost  not  recall 
how  that  the  old  Baron  Marley,  being  mad,  forgot 
the  favor  of  his  own  countenance  that  he  had  known 
for  sixty  years,  and  held  it  was  another's;  nay,  even 
claimed  he  was  the  son  of  Mary  Magdalene,  and  that 
his  head  was  made  of  Spanish  glass ;  and  sooth  to 
say,  he  suffered  none  to  touch  it,  lest  by  mischance 
some  heedless  hand  might  shiver  it.  Give  thy  mis 
givings  easement,  good  my  lord.  This  is  the  very 
prince,  I  know  him  well  —  and  soon  will  be  thy 
king ;  it  may  advantage  thee  to  bear  this  in  mind 
and  more  dwell  upon  it  than  the  other." 

After  some  further  talk,  in  which  the  Lord  St. 
John  covered  up  his  mistake  as  well  as  he  could  by 
repeated  protests  that  his  faith  was  thoroughly 
grounded  now,  and  could  not  be  assailed  by  doubts 


62  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

again,  the  Lord  Hertford  relieved  his  fellow  keeper, 
and  sat  down  to  keep  watch  and  ward  alone.  He 
was  soon  deep  in  meditation.  And  evidently  the 
longer  he  thought,  the  more  he  was  bothered.  By 
and  by  he  began  to  pace  the  floor  and  mutter. 

'Tush,  he  must  be  the  prince!  Will  any  he  in 
all  the  land  maintain  there  can  be  two,  not  of  one 
blood  and  birth,  so  marvelously  twinned?  And 
even  were  it  so,  'twere  yet  a  stranger  miracle  that 
chance  should  cast  the  one  into  the  other's  place. 
Nay,  'tis  folly,  folly,  folly!" 

Presently  he  said : 

"  Now  were  he  impostor  and  called  himself  prince, 
look  you  that  would  be  natural;  that  would  be 
reasonable.  But  lived  ever  an  impostor  yet,  who, 
being  called  prince  by  the  king,  prince  by  the  court, 
prince  by  all,  denied  his  dignity  and  pleaded  against 
his  exaltation?  No!  By  the  soul  of  St.  Swithin, 
no  !  This  is  the  true  prince,  gone  mad  !" 


CHAPTER   VII. 

TOM'S  FIRST   ROYAL  DINNER 

COMEWHAT  after  one  in  the  afternoon,  Tom 
•J  resignedly  underwent  the  ordeal  of  being  dressed 
for  dinner.  He  found  himself  as  finely  clothed  as 
before,  but  everything  different,  everything  changed, 
from  his  ruff  to  his  stockings.  He  was  presently 
conducted  with  much  state  to  a  spacious  and  ornate 
apartment,  where  a  table  was  already  set  for  one. 
Its  furniture  was  all  of  massy  gold,  and  beautified 
with  designs  which  wellnigh  made  it  priceless,  since 
they  were  the  work  of  Benvenuto.  The  room  was 
half  filled  with  noble  servitors.  A  chaplain  said 
grace,  and  Tom  was  about  to  fall  to,  for  hunger  had 
long  been  constitutional  with  him,  but  was  inter 
rupted  by  my  lord  the  Earl  of  Berkeley,  who 
fastened  a  napkin  about  his  neck ;  for  the  great  post 
of  Diaperers  to  the  Princes  of  Wales  was  hereditary 
in  this  nobleman's  family.  Tom's  cupbearer  was 
present,  and  forestalled  all  his  attempts  to  help  him 
self  to  wine.  The  Taster  to  his  Highness  the  Prince 
of  Wales  was  there  also,  prepared  to  taste  any  sus 
picious  dish  upon  requirement,  and  run  the  risk  of 
being  poisoned.  He  was  only  an  ornamental  ap 
pendage  at  this  time,  and  was  seldom  called  to  exer- 

(63) 


64  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

cise  his  function;  but  there  had  been  times,  not 
many  generations  past,  when  the  office  of  taster  had 
its  perils,  and  was  not  a  grandeur  to  be  desired. 
Why  they  did  not  use  a  dog  or  a  plumber  seems 
strange;  but  all  the  ways  of  royalty  are  strange. 
My  Lord  d'Arcy,  First  Groom  of  the  Chamber,  was 
there,  to  do  goodness  knows  what;  but  there  he 
was  —  let  that  suffice.  The  Lord  Chief  Butler  was 
there,  and  stood  behind  Tom's  chair,  overseeing  the 
solemnities,  under  command  of  the  Lord  Great 
Steward  and  the  Lord  Head  Cook,  who  stood  near. 
Tom  had  three  hundred  and  eighty-four  servants 
beside  these;  but  they  were  not  all  in  that  room,  of 
course,  nor  the  quarter  of  them ;  neither  was  Tom 
aware  yet  that  they  existed. 

All  those  that  were  present  had  been  well  drilled 
within  the  hour  to  remember  that  the  prince  was 
temporarily  out  of  his  head,  and  to  be  careful  to 
show  no  surprise  at  his  vagaries.  These  "  vagaries  " 
were  soon  on  exhibition  before  them ;  but  they  only 
moved  their  compassion  and  their  sorrow,  not  their 
mirth.  It  was  a  heavy  affliction  to  them  to  see  the 
beloved  prince  so  stricken. 

Poor  Tom  ate  with  his  fingers  mainly;  but  no  one 
smiled  at  it,  or  even  seemed  to  observe  it.  He  in 
spected  his  napkin  curiously  and  with  deep  interest, 
for  it  was  of  a  very  dainty  and  beautiful  fabric,  then 
said  with  simplicity : 

11  Prithee,  take  it  away,  lest  in  mine  unheedfulness 
it  be  soiled." 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  65 

The  Hereditary  Diaperer  took  it  away  with  rever 
ent  manner,  and  without  word  or  protest  of  any 
sort. 

Tom  examined  the  turnips  and  the  lettuce  with 
interest,  and  asked  what  they  were,  and  if  they  were 
to  be  eaten ;  for  it  was  only  recently  that  men  had 
begun  to  raise  these  things  in  England  in  place  of 
importing  them  as  luxuries  from  Holland.*  His 
question  was  answered  with  grave  respect,  and  no 
surprise  manifested.  When  he  had  finished  his 
dessert,  he  filled  his  pockets  with  nuts ;  but  nobody 
appeared  to  be  aware  of  it,  or  disturbed  by  it.  But 
the  next  moment  he  was  himself  disturbed  by  it,  and 
showed  discomposure ;  for  this  was  the  only  service 
he  had  been  permitted  to  do  with  his  own  hands  during 
the  meal,  and  he  did  not  doubt  that  he  had  done  a 
most  improper  and  unprincely  thing.  At  that  mo 
ment  the  muscles  of  his  nose  began  to  twitch,  and 
the  end  of  that  organ  to  lift  and  wrinkle.  This  con 
tinued,  and  Tom  began  to  evince  a  growing  distress. 
He  looked  appealingly,  first  at  one  and  then  another 
of  the  lords  about  him,  and  tears  came  into  his  eyes. 
They  sprang  forward  with  dismay  in  their  faces,  and 
begged  to  know  his  trouble.  Tom  said  with  genuine 
anguish : 

"I  crave  your  indulgence;  my  nose  itcheth 
cruelly.  What  is  the  custom  and  usage  in  this 
emergence?  Prithee  speed,  for  'tis  but  a  little  time 
that  I  can  bear  it." 


See  Note  4,  at  end  of  the  volume. 
5 


66  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

None  smiled;  but  all  were  sore  perplexed,  and 
looked  one  to  the  other  in  deep  tribulation  for  coun 
sel.  But  behold,  here  was  a  dead  wall,  and  nothing 
in  English  history  to  tell  how  to  get  over  it.  The 
Master  of  Ceremonies  was  not  present;  there  was 
no  one  who  felt  safe  to  venture  upon  this  uncharted 
sea,  or  risk  the  attempt  to  solve  this  solemn  prob 
lem.  Alas !  there  was  no  Hereditary  Scratcher. 
Meantime  the  tears  had  overflowed  their  banks,  and 
begun  to  trickle  down  Tom's  cheeks.  His  twitching 
nose  was  pleading  more  urgently  than  ever  for  relief. 
At  last  nature  broke  down  the  barriers  of  etiquette ; 
Tom  lifted  up  an  inward  prayer  for  pardon  if  he  was 
doing  wrong,  and  brought  relief  to  the  burdened 
hearts  of  his  court  by  scratching  his  nose  himself. 

His  meal  being  ended,  a  lord  came  and  held  be 
fore  him  a  broad,  shallow,  golden  dish  with  fragrant 
rose-water  in  it,  to  cleanse  his  mouth  and  fingers 
with ;  and  my  lord  the  Hereditary  Diaperer  stood  by 
with  a  napkin  for  his  use.  Tom  gazed  at  the  dish 
a  puzzled  moment  or  two,  then  raised  it  to  his 
lips,  and  gravely  took  a  draught.  Then  he  returned 
it  to  the  waiting  lord,  and  said : 

11  Nay,  it  likes  me  not,  my  lord;  it  hath  a  pretty 
flavor,  but  it  wanteth  strength." 

This  new  eccentricity  of  the  prince's  ruined  mind 
made  all  the  hearts  about  him  ache;  but  the  sad 
sight  moved  none  to  merriment. 

Tom's  next  unconscious  blunder  was  to  get  up  and 
leave  the  table  just  when  the  chaplain  had  taken  his 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  67 

stand  behind  his  chair  and  with  uplifted  hands  and 
closed,  uplifted  eyes,  was  in  the  act  of  beginning 
the  blessing.  Still  nobody  seemed  to  perceive  that 
the  prince  had  done  a  thing  unusual. 

By  his  own  request,  our  small  friend  was  now 
conducted  to  his  private  cabinet,  and  left  there 
alone  to  his  own  devices.  Hanging  upon  hooks  in 
the  oaken  wainscoting  were  the  several  pieces  of  a 
suit  of  shining  steel  armor,  covered  all  over  with 
beautiful  designs  exquisitely  inlaid  in  gold.  This 
martial  panoply  belonged  to  the  true  prince, —  a 
recent  present  from  Madam  Parr,  the  queen.  Tom 
put  on  the  greaves,  the  gauntlets,  the  plumed 
helmet,  and  such  other  pieces  as  he  could  don  with 
out  assistance,  and  for  a  while  was  minded  to  call 
for  help  and  complete  the  matter,  but  bethought 
him  of  the  nuts  he  had  brought  away  from  dinner, 
and  the  joy  it  would  be  to  eat  them  with  no  crowd 
to  eye  him,  and  no  Grand  Hereditaries  to  pester 
him  with  undesired  services ;  so  he  restored  the 
pretty  things  to  their  several  places,  and  soon  was 
cracking  nuts,  and  feeling  almost  naturally  happy 
for  the  first  time  since  God  for  his  sins  had  made 
him  a  prince,  When  the  nuts  were  all  gone,  he 
stumbled  upon  some  inviting  books  in  a  closet, 
among  them  one  about  the  etiquette  of  the  English 
court.  This  was  a  prize.  He  lay  down  upon  a 
sumptuous  divan,  and  proceeded  to  instruct  himself 
with  honest  zeal.  Let  us  leave  him  there  for  the 
present. 

E 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE  QUESTION  OF  THE  SEAL 

ABOUT  five  o'clock  Henry  VIII.  awoke  out  of  an 
unrefreshing  nap,  and  muttered  to  himself, 
'  Troublous  dreams,  troublous  dreams  !  Mine  end 
is  now  at  hand;  so  say  these  warnings,  and  my 
failing  pulses  do  confirm  it."  Presently  a  wicked 
light  flamed  up  in  his  eye,  and  he  muttered,  "Yet 
will  not  I  die  till  he  go  before." 

His  attendants  perceiving  that  he  was  awake,  one 
of  them  asked  his  pleasure  concerning  the  Lord 
Chancellor,  who  was  waiting  without. 

"Admit  him,  admit  him!"  exclaimed  the  king 
eagerly. 

The  Lord  Chancellor  entered,  and  knelt  by  the 
king's  couch,  saying: 

"  I  have  given  order,  and,  according  to  the  king's 
command,  the  peers  of  the  realm,  in  their  robes,  do 
now  stand  at  the  bar  of  the  House,  where,  having 
confirmed  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  doom,  they  humbly 
wait  his  majesty's  further  pleasure  in  the  matter." 

The  king's  face  lit  up  with  a  fierce  joy.      Said  he: 

11  Lift  me  up  !  In  mine  own  person  will  I  go  be- 

(68) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  69 

fore  my  Parliament,  and  with  mine  own  hand  will  I 
seal  the  warrant  that  rids  me  of — " 

His  voice  failed ;  an  ashen  pallor  swept  the  flush 
from  his  cheeks;  and  the  attendants  eased  him  back 
upon  his  pillows,  and  hurriedly  assisted  him  with 
restoratives.  Presently  he  said  sorrowfully: 

"Alack,  how  have  I  longed  for  this  sweet  hour! 
and  lo,  too  late  it  cometh,  and  I  am  robbed  of  this 
so  coveted  chance.  But  speed  ye,  speed  ye !  let 
others  do  this  happy  office  sith  'tis  denied  to  me.  I 
put  my  great  seal  in  commission :  choose  thou  the 
lords  that  shall  compose  it,  and  get  ye  to  your 
work.  Speed  ye,  man  !  Before  the  sun  shall  rise 
and  set  again,  bring  me  his  head  that  I  may  see  it." 

"According  to  the  king's  command,  so  shall  it 
be.  Will't  please  your  majesty  to  order  that  the 
Seal  be  now  restored  to  me,  so  that  I  may  forth 
upon  the  business?  " 

"The  Seal !      Who  keepeth  the  Seal  but  thou?  " 

"  Please  your  majesty,  you  did  take  it  from  me 
two  days  since,  saying  it  should  no  more  do  its 
office  till  your  own  royal  hand  should  use  it  upon 
the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  warrant." 

"  Why,  so  in  sooth  I  did ;  I  do  remember  it 

What  did  I  with  it ! I  am  very  feeble So 

oft  these  days  doth  my  memory  play  the  traitor  with 
me.  ....  .'Tis  strange,  strange — " 

The  king  dropped  into  inarticulate  mumblings, 
shaking  his  gray  head  weakly  from  time  to  time,  and 
gropingly  trying  to  recollect  what  he  had  done  with 


70  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

the  Seal.  At  last  my  Lord  Hertford  ventured  to 
kneel  and  offer  information  — • 

"  Sire,  if  that  I  may  be  so  bold,  here  be  several 
that  do  remember  with  me  how  that  you  gave  the 
Great  Seal  into  the  hands  of  his  Highness  the  Prince 
of  Wales  to  keep  against  the  day  that  — 

1 '  True,  most  true  ! ' '  interrupted  the  king.  ' '  Fetch 
it!  Go:  time  flieth!" 

Lord  Hertford  flew  to  Tom,  but  returned  to  the 
king  before  very  long,  troubled  and  empty-handed. 
He  delivered  himself  to  this  effect : 

"  It  grieveth  me,  my  lord  the  king,  to  bear  so 
heavy  and  unwelcome  tidings ;  but  it  is  the  will  of 
God  that  the  prince's  affliction  abideth  still,  and  he 
cannot  recall  to  mind  that  he  received  the  Seal.  So 
came  I  quickly  to  report,  thinking  it  were  waste  of 
precious  time,  and  little  worth  withal,  that  any 
should  attempt  to  search  the  long  array  of  chambers 
and  saloons  that  belong  unto  his  royal  high — " 

A  groan  from  the  king  interrupted  my  lord  at  this 
point.  After  a  little  while  his  majesty  said,  with  a 
deep  sadness  in  his  tone : 

"Trouble  him  no  more,  poor  child.  The  hand 
of  God  lieth  heavy  upon  him,  and  my  heart  goeth 
out  in  loving  compassion  for  him,  and  sorrow  that  I 
may  not  bear  his  burden  on  mine  own  old  trouble- 
weighted  shoulders,  and  so  bring  him  peace." 

He  closed  his  eyes,  fell  to  mumbling,  and  pres 
ently  was  silent.  After  a  time  he  opened  his  eyes 
again,  and  gazed  vacantly  around  until  his  glance 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  71 

rested  upon  the  kneeling  Lord  Chancellor.  Instantly 
his  face  flushed  with  wrath : 

"What,  thou  here  yet!  By  the  glory  of  God, 
an'  thou  gettest  not  about  that  traitor's  business, 
thy  mitre  shall  have  holiday  the  morrow  for  lack  of 
a  head  to  grace  withal ! ' ' 

The  trembling  Chancellor  answered : 

"Good  your  majesty,  I  cry  you  mercy!  I  but 
waited  for  the  Seal." 

"  Man,  hast  lost  thy  wits?  The  small  Seal  which 
aforetime  I  was  wont  to  take  with  me  abroad  lieth  in 
my  treasury.  And,  since  the  Great  Seal  hath  flown 
away,  shall  not  it  suffice?  Hast  lost  thy  wits?  Be 
gone  !  And  hark  ye, —  come  no  more  till  thou  do 
bring  his  head." 

The  poor  Chancellor  was  not  long  in  removing 
himself  from  this  dangerous  vicinity;  nor  did  the 
commission  waste  time  in  giving  the  royal  assent  to 
the  work  of  the  slavish  Parliament,  and  appointing 
the  morrow  for  the  beheading  of  the  premier  peer 
of  England,  the  luckless  Duke  of  Norfolk.* 

*  See  Note  5,  at  end  of  volume. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE   RIVER   PAGEANT 

ST  nine  in  the  evening  the  whole  vast  river-front 
of  the  palace  was  blazing  with  light.  The  river 
itself,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  citywards,  was 
so  thickly  covered  with  watermen's  boats  and  with 
pleasure-barges,  all  fringed  with  colored  lanterns, 
and  gently  agitated  by  the  waves,  that  it  resembled 
a  glowing  and  limitless  garden  of  flowers  stirred  to 
soft  motion  by  summer  winds.  The  grand  terrace 
of  stone  steps  leading  down  to  the  water,  spacious 
enough  to  mass  the  army  of  a  German  principality 
upon,  was  a  picture  to  see,  with  its  ranks  of  royal 
halberdiers  in  polished  armor,  and  its  troops  of 
brilliantly  costumed  servitors  flitting  up  and  down, 
and  to  and  fro,  in  the  hurry  of  preparation. 

Presently  a  command  was  given,  and  immediately 
all  living  creatures  vanished  from  the  steps.  Now 
the  air  was  heavy  with  the  hush  of  suspense  and 
expectancy.  As  far  as  one's  vision  could  carry,  he 
might  see  the  myriads  of  people  in  the  boats  rise  up, 
and  shade  their  eyes  from  the  glare  of  lanterns  and 
torches,  and  gaze  toward  the  palace. 

(72) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  73 

A  file  of  forty  or  fifty  state  barges  drew  up  to  the 
steps.  They  were  richly  gilt,  and  their  lofty  prows 
and  sterns  were  elaborately  carved.  Some  of  them 
were  decorated  with  banners  and  streamers ;  some 
with  cloth-of-gold  and  arras  embroidered  with  coats- 
of-arrns ;  others  with  silken  flags  that  had  number 
less  little  silver  bells  fastened  to  them,  which  shook 
out  tiny  showers  of  joyous  music  whenever  the 
breezes  fluttered  them ;  others  of  yet  higher  preten 
sions,  since  they  belonged  to  nobles  in  the  prince's 
immediate  service,  had  their  sides  picturesquely 
fenced  with  shields  gorgeously  emblazoned  with 
armorial  bearings.  Each  state  barge  was  towed  by 
a  tender.  Besides  the  rowers,  these  tenders  carried 
each  a  number  of  men-at-arms  in  glossy  helmet  and 
breastplate,  and  a  company  of  musicians. 

The  advance-guard  of  the  expected  procession 
now  appeared  in  the  great  gateway,  a  troop  of  hal 
berdiers.  '  They  were  dressed  in  striped  hose  of 
black  and  tawny,  velvet  caps  graced  at  the  sides  with 
silver  roses,  and  doublets  of  murrey  and  blue  cloth, 
embroidered  on  the  front  and  back  with  the  three 
feathers,  the  prince's  blazon,  woven  in  gold.  Their 
halberd  staves  were  covered  with  crimson  velvet, 
fastened  with  gilt  nails,  and  ornamented  with  gold 
tassels.  Filing  off  on  the  right  and  left,  they  formed 
two  long  lines,  extending  from  the  gateway  of  the 
palace  to  the  water's  edge.  A  thick,  rayed  cloth  or 
carpet  was  then  unfolded,  and  laid  down  between 
them  by  attendants  in  the  gold-and-crimson  liveries 


74  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

of  the  prince.  This  done,  a  flourish  of  trumpets 
resounded  from  within.  A  lively  prelude  arose  from 
the  musicians  on  the  water;  and  two  ushers  with 
white  wands  marched  with  a  slow  and  stately  pace 
from  the  portal.  They  were  followed  by  an  officer 
bearing  the  civic  mace,  after  whom  came  another 
carrying  the  city's  sword;  then  several  sergeants  of 
the  city  guard,  in  their  full  accouterments,  and  with 
badges  on  their  sleeves ;  then  the  Garter  king-at- 
arms,  in  his  tabard;  then  several  knights  of  the 
Bath,  each  with  a  white  lace  on  his  sleeve ;  then 
their  esquires;  then  the  judges,  in  their  robes  of 
scarlet  and  coifs ;  then  the  Lord  High  Chancellor  of 
England,  in  a  robe  of  scarlet,  open  before,  and 
purfled  with  minever ;  then  a  deputation  of  alder 
men,  in  their  scarlet  cloaks;  and  then  the  heads  of 
the  different  civic  companies,  in  their  robes  of  state. 
Now  came  twelve  French  gentlemen,  in  splendid 
habiliments,  consisting  of  pourpoints  of  white 
damask  barred  with  gold,  short  mantles  of  crimson 
velvet  lined  with  violet  taffeta,  and  carnation-colored 
hauts-de-chausses >  and  took  their  way  down  the 
steps.  They  were  of  the  suite  of  the  French  am 
bassador,  and  were  followed  by  twelve  cavaliers  of 
the  suite  of  the  Spanish  ambassador,  clothed  in 
black  velvet,  unrelieved  by  any  ornament.  Follow 
ing  these  came  several  great  English  nobles  with 
their  attendants." 

There  was  a  flourish  of  trumpets  within ;   and  the 
prince's  uncle,  the  future  great  Duke  of  Somerset, 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  75 

emerged  from  the  gateway,  arrayed  in  a  "doublet 
of  black  cloth-of-gold,  and  a  cloak  of  crimson  satin 
flowered  with  gold,  and  ribanded  with  nets  of 
silver."  He  turned,  doffed  his  plumed  cap,  bent 
his  body  in  a  low  reverence,  and  began  to  step 
backward,  bowing  at  each  step.  A  prolonged 
trumpet-blast  followed,  and  a  proclamation,  "Way 
for  the  high  and  mighty,  the  Lord  Edward,  Prince 
of  Wales!"  High  aloft  on  the  palace  walls  a  long 
line  of  red  tongues  of  flame  leaped  forth  with  a 
thunder-crash ;  the  massed  world  on  the  river  burst 
into  a  mighty  roar  of  welcome ;  and  Tom  Canty, 
the  cause  and  hero  of  it  all,  stepped  into  view,  and 
slightly  bowed  his  princely  head. 

He  was  "  magnificently  habited  in  a  doublet  of 
white  satin,  with  a  front-piece  of  purple  cloth-of- 
tissue,  powdered  with  diamonds,  and  edged  with 
ermine.  Over  this  he  wore  a  mantle  of  white  cloth- 
of-gold,  pounced  with  the  triple-feather  crest,  lined 
with  blue  satin,  set  with  pearls  and  precious  stones, 
and  fastened  with  a  clasp  of  brilliants.  About  his 
neck  hung  the  order  of  the  Garter,  and  several 
princely  foreign  orders;"  and  wherever  light  fell 
upon  him  jewels  responded  with  a  blinding  flash. 
O,  Tom  Canty,  born  in  a  hovel,  bred  in  the  gutters 
of  London,  familiar  with  rags  and  dirt  and  misery, 
what  a  spectacle  is  this ! 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE   PRINCE   IN   THE  TOILS 

WE  left  John  Canty  dragging  the  rightful  prince 
into  Offal  Court,  with  a  noisy  and  delighted 
mob  at  his  heels.  There  was  but  one  person  in  it 
who  offered  a  pleading  word  for  the  captive,  and  he 
was  not  heeded;  he  was  hardly  even  heard,  so  great 
was  the  turmoil.  The  prince  continued  to  struggle 
for  freedom,  and  to  rage  against  the  treatment  he 
was  suffering,  until  John  Canty  lost  what  little 
patience  was  left  in  him,  and  raised  his  oaken  cudgel 
in  a  sudden  fury  over  the  prince's  head.  The  single 
pleader  for  the  lad  sprang  to  stop  the  man's  arm, 
and  the  blow  descended  upon  his  own  wrist.  Canty 
roared  out: 

1  Thou'lt    meddle,    wilt    thou?     Then    have    thy 
reward." 

His  cudgel  crashed  down  upon  the  meddler's 
head;  there  was  a  groan,  a  dim  form  sank  to  the 
ground  among  the  feet  of  the  crowd,  and  the  next 
moment  it  lay  there  in  the  dark  alone.  The  mob 
pressed  on,  their  enjoyment  nothing  disturbed  by 
this  episode. 

(76) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  77 

Presently  the  prince  found  himself  in  John  Canty 's 
abode,  with  the  door  closed  against  the  outsiders.  By 
the  va^ue  licfht  of  a  tallow  candle  which  was  thrust 

o  o 

into  a  bottle,  he  made  out  the  main  features  of  the 
loath,some  den,  and  also  of  the  occupants  of  it. 
Two  frowsy  girls  and  a  middle-aged  woman  cowered 
against  the  wall  in  one  corner,  with  the  aspect  of 
animals  habituated  to  harsh  usage,  and  expecting 
and  dreading  it  now.  From  another  corner  stole  a 
withered  hag  with  streaming  gray  hair  and  malignant 
eyes.  John  Canty  said  to  this  one: 

'Tarry!  There's  fine  mummeries  here.  Mar 
them  not  till  thou'st  enjoyed  them;  then  let  thy 
hand  be  heavy  as  thou  wilt.  Stand  forth,  lad. 
Now  say  thy  foolery  again,  an'  thou'st  not  forgot 
it.  Name  thy  name.  Who  art  thou?" 

The  insulted  blood  mounted  to  the  little  prince's 
cheek  once  more,  and  he  lifted  a  steady  and  indig 
nant  gaze  to  the  man's  face,  and  said: 

'Tis  but  ill-breeding  in  such  as  thou  to  com 
mand  me  to  speak.  I  tell  thee  now,  as  I  told  thee 
before,  I  am  Edward,  Prince  of  Wales,  and  none 
other." 

The  stunning  surprise  of  this  reply  nailed  the 
hag's  feet  to  the  floor  where  she  stood,  and  almost 
took  her  breath.  She  stared  at  the  prince  in  stupid 
amazement,  which  so  amused  her  ruffianly  son  that 
he  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter.  But  the  effect 
upon  Tom  Canty 's  mother  and  sisters  was  different. 
Their  dread  of  bodily  injury  gave  way  at  once  to 

6 


78  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

distress  of  a  different  sort.  They  ran  forward  with 
woe  and  dismay  in  their  faces,  exclaiming: 

"  Oh,  poor  Tom,  poor  lad  !" 

The  mother  fell  on  her  knees  before  the  prince, 
put  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders,  and  gazed  yearn 
ingly  into  his  face  through  her  rising  tears.  Then 
she  said : 

"Oh,  my  poor  boy!  thy  foolish  reading  hath 
wrought  its  woful  work  at  last,  and  ta'en  thy  wit  away. 
Ah  !  why  didst  thou  cleave  to  it  when  I  so  warned 
thee  'gainst  it?  Thou'st  broke  thy  mother's  heart." 

The  prince  looked  into  her  face,  and  said  gently: 

'  Thy    son   is   well,  and   hath   not   lost   his   wits, 

good  dame.      Comfort   thee;   let   me   to   the   palace 

where  he  is,  and   straightway  will  the  king  my  father 

restore  him  to  thee." 

"The  king  thy  father!  Oh,  my  child!  unsay 
these  words  that  be  freighted  with  death  for  thee, 
and  ruin  for  all  that  be  near  to  thee.  Shake  off  this 
grewsome  dream.  Call  back  thy  poor  wandering 
memory.  Look  upon  me.  Am  not  I  thy  mother 
that  bore  thee,  and  loveth  thee?" 

The  prince  shook  his  head,  and  reluctantly  said: 

"God  knoweth  I  am  loath  to  grieve  thy  heart; 
but  truly  have  I  never  looked  upon  thy  face  before." 

The  woman  sank  back  to  a  sitting  posture  on  the 
floor,  and,  covering  her  eyes  with  her  hands,  gave 
way  to  heart-broken  sobs  and  wailings. 

"  Let  the  show  go  on  !"  shouted  Canty.  "  What, 
Nan  !  what,  Bet !  Mannerless  wenches  !  will  ye  stand 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  79 

in  the  prince's  presence?  Upon  your  knees,  ye 
pauper  scum,  and  do  him  reverence  !" 

He  followed  this  with  another  horse-laugh.  The 
girls  began  to  plead  timidly  for  their  brother ;  and 
Nan  said : 

"An'  thou  wilt  but  let  him  to  bed,  father,  rest 
and  sleep  will  heal  his  madness;  prithee,  do." 

"  Do,  father,"  said  Bet;  "he  is  more  worn  than 
is  his  wont.  To-morrow  will  he  be  himself  again, 
and  will  beg  with  diligence,  and  come  not  empty 
home  again." 

This  remark  sobered  the  father's  joviality,  and 
brought  his  mind  to  business.  He  turned  angrily 
upon  the  prince,  and  said : 

'  The  morrow  must  we  pay  two  pennies  to  him 
that  owns  this  hole;  two  pennies  mark  ye, —  all  this 
money  for  a  half-year's  rent,  else  out  of  this  we  go. 
Show  what  thou'st  gathered  with  thy  lazy  begging." 

The  prince  said : 

"  Offend  me  not  with  thy  sordid  matters.  I  tell 
thee  a<jain  I  am  the  king's  son." 

*T">  O 

A  sounding  blow  upon  the  prince's  shoulder  from 
Canty 's  broad  palm  sent  him  staggering  into  good- 
wife  Canty's  arms,  who  clasped  him  to  her  breast, 
and  sheltered  him  from  a  pelting  rain  of  cuffs  and 
slaps  by  interposing  her  own  person. 

The  frightened  girls  retreated  to  their  corner ;  but 
the  grandmother  stepped  eagerly  forward  to  assist 
her  son.  The  prince  sprang  away  from  Mrs.  Canty, 
exclaiming : 


80  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"Thou  shalt  not  suffer  for  me,  madam.  Let 
these  swine  do  their  will  upon  me  alone." 

This  speech  infuriated  the  swine  to  such  a  degree 
that  they  set  about  their  work  without  waste  of  time. 
Between  them  they  belabored  the  boy  right  soundly, 
and  then  gave  the  girls  and  their  mother  a  beating 
for  showing  sympathy  for  the  victim. 

"Now,"  said  Canty,  "to  bed,  all  of  ye.  The 
entertainment  has  tired  me." 

The  light  was  put  out,  and  the  family  retired.  As 
soon  as  the  snorings  of  the  head  of  the  house  and 
his  mother  showed  that  they  were  asleep,  the  young 
girls  crept  to  where  the  prince  lay,  and  covered  him 
tenderly  from  the  cold  with  straw  and  rags  ;  and  their 
mother  crept  to  him  also,  and  stroked  his  hair,  and 
cried  over  him,  whispering  broken  words  of  comfort 
and  compassion  in  his  ear  the  while.  She  had  saved 
a  morsel  for  him  to  eat  also;  but  the  boy's  pains 
had  swept  away  all  appetite, —  at  least  for  black  and 
tasteless  crusts.  He  was  touched  by  her  brave  and 
costly  defense  of  him,  and  by  her  commiseration; 
and  he  thanked  her  in  very  noble  and  princely 
words,  and  begged  her  to  go  to  her  sleep  and  try  to 
forget  her  sorrows.  And  he  added  that  the  king 
his  father  would  not  let  her  loyal  kindness  and  de 
votion  go  unrewarded.  This  return  to  his  "mad 
ness"  broke  her  heart  anew,  and  she  strained  him 
to  her  breast  again  and  again  and  then  went  back, 
drowned  in  tears,  to  her  bed. 

As  she  lay  thinking  and  mourning,  the  suggestion 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  81 

began  to  creep  into  her  mind  that  there  was  an  un- 
definable  something  about  this  boy  that  was  lacking 
in  Tom  Canty,  mad  or  sane.  She  could  not  describe 
it,  she  could  not  tell  just  what  it  was,  and  yet  her 
sharp  mother-instinct  seemed  to  detect  it  and  per 
ceive  it.  What  if  the  boy  were  really  not  her  son, 
after  all?  Oh,  absurd!  She  almost  smiled  at  the 
idea,  spite  of  her  griefs  and  troubles.  No  matter, 
she  found  that  it  was  an  idea  that  would  not 
"down,"  but  persisted  in  haunting  her.  It  pur 
sued  her,  it  harassed  her,  it  clung  to  her,  and  re 
fused  to  be  put  away  or  ignored.  At  last  she  per 
ceived  that  there  was  not  going  to  be  any  peace  for 
her  until  she  should  devise  a  test  that  should  prove, 
clearly  and  without  question,  whether  this  lad  was 
her  son  or  not,  and  so  banish  these  wearing  and 
worrying  doubts.  Ah,  yes,  this  was  plainly  the 
right  way  out  of  the  difficulty ;  therefore  she  set  her 
wits  to  work  at  once  to  contrive  that  test.  But  it 
was  an  easier  thing  to  propose  than  to  accomplish. 
She  turned  over  in  her  mind  one  promising  test 
after  another,  but  was  obliged  to  relinquish  them 
all  —  none  of  them  were  absolutely  sure,  absolutely 
perfect;  and  an  imperfect  one  could  not  satisfy  her. 
Evidently  she  was  racking  her  head  in  vain  —  it 
seemed  manifest  that  she  must  give  the  matter  up. 
While  this  depressing  thought  was  passing  through 
her  mind,  her  ear  caught  the  regular  breathing  of 
the  boy,  and  she  knew  he  had  fallen  asleep.  And 
while  she  listened,  the  measured  breathing  was 


82  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

broken  by  a  soft,  startled  cry,  such  as  one  utters 
in  a  troubled  dream.  This  chance  occurrence  fur 
nished  her  instantly  with  a  plan  worth  all  her  labored 
tests  combined.  She  at  once  set  herself  feverishly, 
but  noiselessly,  to  work  to  relight  her  candle,  mut 
tering  to  herself,  "  Had  I  but  seen  him  then,  I 
should  have  known  !  Since  that  day,  when  he  was 
little,  that  the  powder  burst  in  his  face,  he  hath 
never  been  startled  of  a  sudden  out  of  his  dreams 
or  out  of  his  thinkings,  but  he  hath  cast  his  hand 
before  his  eyes,  even  as  he  did  that  day,  and  not  as 
others  would  do  it,  with  the  palm  inward,  but  always 
with  the  palm  turned  outward  —  I  have  seen  it  a 
hundred  times,  and  it  hath  never  varied  nor  ever 
failed.  Yes,  I  shall  soon  know  now!" 

By  this  time  she  had  crept  to  the  slumbering 
boy's  side,  with  the  candle  shaded  in  her  hand.  She 
bent  needfully  and  warily  over  him,  scarcely  breath 
ing,  in  her  suppressed  excitement,  and  suddenly 
flashed  the  light  in  his  face  and  struck  the  floor 
by  his  ear  with  her  knuckles.  The  sleeper's  eyes 
sprung  wide  open,  and  he  cast  a  startled  stare  about 
him  —  but  he  made  no  special  movement  with  his 
hands. 

The  poor  woman  was  smitten  almost  helpless  with 
surprise  and  grief;  but  she  contrived  to  hide  her 
emotions,  and  to  soothe  the  boy  to  sleep  again ; 
then  she  crept  apart  and  communed  miserably  with 
herself  upon  the  disastrous  result  of  her  experiment. 
She  tried  to  believe  that  her  Tom's  madness  had 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  83 

banished  this  habitual  gesture  of  his ;  but  she  could 
not  do  it.  "No,"  she  said,  "his  hands  are  not 
mad,  they  could  not  unlearn  so  old  a  habit  in  so 
brief  a  time.  Oh,  this  is  a  heavy  day  for  me  !" 

Still,  hope  was  as  stubborn  now  as  doubt  had 
been  before ;  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  accept 
the  verdict  of  the  test ;  she  must  try  the  thing 
again  —  the  failure  must  have  been  only  an  acci 
dent  ;  so  she  startled  the  boy  out  of  his  sleep  a 
second  and  a  third  time,  at  intervals  —  with  the 
same  result  which  had  marked  the  first  test  —  then 
she  dragged  herself  to  bed,  and  fell  sorrowfully 
asleep,  saying,  "But  I  cannot  give  him  up  —  oh, 
no,  I  cannot,  I  cannot  —  he  must  be  my  boy!" 

The  poor  mother's  interruptions  having  ceased, 
and  the  prince's  pains  having  gradually  lost  their 
power  to  disturb  him,  utter  weariness  at  last  sealed 
his  eyes  in  a  profound  and  restful  sleep.  Hour 
after  hour  slipped  away,  and  still  he  slept  like  the 
dead.  Thus  four  or  five  hours  passed.  Then  his 
stupor  began  to  lighten.  Presently,  while  half  asleep 
and  half  awake,  he  murmured: 

"Sir  William!" 

:<  After  a  moment: 

"Ho,    Sir   William    Herbert!      Hie    thee    hither, 

and    list   to  the  strangest  dream  that  ever Sir 

William  !     Dost  hear?    Man,  I  did  think  me  changed 

to    a    pauper,   and Ho    there!      Guards!      Sir 

William  !     What !   is  there  no  groom  of  the  chamber 
in  waiting?     Alack  it  shall  go  hard  with — " 
F 


84  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"  What  aileth  thee?"  asked  a  whisper  near  him. 
"  Who  art  thou  calling?" 

"  Sir  William  Herbert.      Who  art  thou?" 

"I?  Who  should  I  be,  but  thy  sister  Nan?  Oh, 
Tom,  I  had  forgot!  Thou'rt  mad  yet  —  poor  lad 
thou'rt  mad  yet,  would  I  had  never  woke  to  know  it 
again !  But,  prithee,  master  thy  tongue,  lest  we  be 
all  beaten  till  we  die!" 

The  startled  prince  sprang  partly  up,  but  a  sharp 
reminder  from  his  stiffened  bruises  brought  him  to 
himself,  and  he  sunk  back  among  his  foul  straw  with 
a  moan  and  the  ejaculation : 

"  Alas,  it  was  no  dream,  then  !" 

In  a  moment  all  the  heavy  sorrow  and  misery 
which  sleep  had  banished  were  upon  him  again,  and 
he  realized  that  he  was  no  longer  a  petted  prince  in 
a  palace,  with  the  adoring  eyes  of  a  nation  upon 
him,  but  a  pauper,  an  outcast,  clothed  in  rags, 
prisoner  in  a  den  fit  only  for  beasts,  and  consorting 
with  beggars  and  thieves. 

In  the  midst  of  his  grief  he  began  to  be  conscious 
of  hilarious  noises  and  shoutings,  apparently  but  a 
block  or  two  away.  The  next  moment  there  were 
several  sharp  raps  at  the  door ;  John  Canty  ceased 
from  snoring  and  said : 

* '  Who  knocketh  ?     What  wilt  thou  ?' ' 

A  voice  answered : 

"  Know'st  thou  who  it  was  thou  laid  thy  cudgel 
on?" 

"  No.      Neither  know  I,  nor  care." 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  85 

"  Belike  thou'lt  change  thy  note  eftsoons.  An' 
thou  would  save  thy  neck,  nothing  but  flight  may 
stead  thee.  The  man  is  this  moment  delivering  up 
the  ghost.  'Tis  the  priest,  Father  Andrew!" 

"  God-a-mercy !"  exclaimed  Canty.  He  roused 
his  family,  and  hoarsely  commanded,  "  Up  with  ye 
all  and  fly  —  or  bide  where  ye  are  and  perish!" 

Scarcely  five  minutes  later  the  Canty  household  were 
in  the  street  and  flying  for  their  lives.  John  Canty 
held  the  prince  by  the  wrist,  and  hurried  him  along 
the  dark  way,  giving  him  this  caution  in  a  low  voice: 

11  Mind  thy  tongue,  thou  mad  fool,  and  speak  not 
our  name.  I  will  choose  me  a  new  name,  speedily, 
to  throw  the  law's  dogs  off  the  scent.  Mind  thy 
tongue,  I  tell  thee!" 

He  growled  these  words  to  the  rest  of  the  family : 

"If  it  so  chance  that  we  be  separated,  let  each 
make  for  London  bridge ;  whoso  findeth  himself  as 
far  as  the  last  linen-draper's  shop  on  the  bridge,  let 
him  tarry  there  till  the  others  be  come,  then  will  we 
flee  into  Southwark  together." 

At  this  moment  the  party  burst  suddenly  out  of 
darkness  into  light;  and  not  only  into  light,  but  into 
the  midst  of  a  multitude  of  singing,  dancing,  and 
shouting  people,  massed  together  on  the  river 
frontage.  There  was  a  line  of  bonfires  stretching 
as  far  as  one  could  see,  up  and  down  the  Thames ; 
London  bridge  was  illuminated ;  Southwark  bridge 
likewise ;  the  entire  river  was  aglow  with  the  flash 
and  sheen  of  colored  lights,  and  constant  explosions 


86  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

of  fireworks  filled  the  skies  with  an  intricate  com 
mingling  of  shooting  splendors  and  a  thick  rain  of 
dazzling  sparks  that  almost  turned  night  into  day ; 
everywhere  were  crowds  of  revelers;  all  London 
seemed  to  be  at  large. 

John  Canty  delivered  himself  of  a  furious  curse 
and  commanded  a  retreat;  but  it  was  too  late.  He 
and  his  tribe  were  swallowed  up  in  that  swarming 
hive  of  humanity,  and  hopelessly  separated  from 
each  other  in  an  instant.  We  are  not  considering 
that  the  prince  was  one  of  his  tribe ;  Canty  still  kept 
his  grip  upon  him.  The  prince's  heart  was  beating 
high  with  hopes  of  escape  now.  A  burly  waterman, 
considerably  exalted  with  liquor,  found  himself 
rudely  shoved  by  Canty  in  his  efforts  to  plow 
through  the  crowd ;  he  laid  his  great  hand  on 
Canty 's  shoulder  and  said: 

"  Nay,  whither  so  fast,  friend?  Dost  canker  thy 
soul  with  sordid  business  when  all  that  be  leal  men 
and  true  make  holiday?" 

"  Mine  affairs  are  mine  own,  they  concern  thee 
not,"  answered  Canty,  roughly;  "take  away  thy 
hand  and  let  me  pass." 

"  Sith  that  is  thy  humor,  thou'lt  not  pass  till 
thou'st  drunk  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  I  tell  thee 
that,"  said  the  waterman,  barring  the  way  resolutely. 

"  Give  me  the  cup,  then,  and  make  speed,  make 
speed!" 

Other  revelers  were  interested  by  this  time.  They 
cried  out: 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  87 

''The  loving-cup,  the  loving-cup!  make  the  sour 
knave  drink  the  loving-cup,  else  will  we  feed  him  to 
the  fishes." 

So  a  huge  loving-cup  was  brought;  the  water 
man,  grasping  it  by  one  of  its  handles,  and  with  his 
other  hand  bearing  up  the  end  of  an  imaginary  nap 
kin,  presented  it  in  due  and  ancient  form  to  Canty, 
who  had  to  grasp  the  opposite  handle  with  one  of  his 
hands  and  take  off  the  lid  with  the  other,  according 
to  ancient  custom.*  This  left  the  prince  hand-free 
for  a  second,  of  course.  He  wasted  no  time,  but  dived 
among  the  forest  of  legs  about  him  and  disappeared. 
In  another  moment  he  could  not  have  been  harder  to 
find,  under  that  tossing  sea  of  life,  if  its  billows  had 
been  the  Atlantic's  and  he  a  lost  sixpence. 

He  very  soon  realized  this  fact,  and  straightway 
busied  himself  about  his  own  affairs  without  further 
thought  of  John  Canty.  He  quickly  realized  another 
thing,  too.  To  wit,  that  a  spurious  Prince  of  Wales 
was  being  feasted  by  the  city  in  his  stead.  He 
easily  concluded  that  the  pauper  lad,  Tom  Canty, 
had  deliberately  taken  advantage  of  his  stupendous 
opportunity  and  become  a  usurper. 

Therefore  there  was  but  one  course  to  pursue  — 
find  his  way  to  the  Guildhall,  make  himself  known, 
and  denounce  the  impostor.  He  also  made  up  his 
mind  that  Tom  should  be  allowed  a  reasonable  time 
for  spiritual  preparation,  and  then  be  hanged,  drawn, 
and  quartered,  according  to  the  law  and  usage  of 
the  day,  in  cases  of  high  treason. 

*  See  Note  6,  at  end  of  volume. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

AT  GUILDHALL 

1"*HE  royal  barge,  attended  by  its  gorgeous  fleet, 
took  its  stately  way  down  the  Thames  through 
the  wilderness  of  illuminated  boats.  The  air  was 
laden  with  music;  the  river  banks  were  beruffled 
with  joy-flames ;  the  distant  city  lay  in  a  soft  lumin 
ous  glow  from  its  countless  invisible  bonfires ;  above 
it  rose  many  a  slender  spire  into  the  sky,  incrusted 
with  sparkling  lights,  wherefore  in  their  remoteness 
they  seemed  like  jeweled  lances  thrust  aloft;  as  the 
fleet  swept  along,  it  was  greeted  from  the  banks  with 
a  continuous  hoarse  roar  of  cheers  and  the  ceaseless 
flash  and  boom  of  artillery. 

To  Tom  Canty,  half  buried  in  his  silken  cushions, 
these  sounds  and  this  spectacle  were  a  wonder  un 
speakably  sublime  and  astonishing.  To  his  little 
friends  at  his  side,  the  Princess  Elizabeth  and  the 
Lady  Jane  Grey,  they  were  nothing. 

Arrived  at  the  Dowgate,  the  fleet  was  towed  up 
the  limpid  Walbrook  (whose  channel  has  now  been 
for  two  centuries  buried  out  of  sight  under  acres  of 
buildings)  to  Bucklersbury,  past  houses  and  under 

(88) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  89 

bridges  populous  with  merry-makers  and  brilliantly 
lighted,  and  at  last  came  to  a  halt  in  a  basin  where 
now  is  Barge  Yard,  in  the  center  of  the  ancient  city 
of  London.  Tom  disembarked,  and  he  and  his 
gallant  procession  crossed  Cheapside  and  made  a 
short  march  through  the  Old  Jewry  and  Basinghall 
street  to  the  Guildhall. 

Tom  and  his  little  ladies  were  received  with  due 
ceremony  by  the  Lord  Mayor  and  the  Fathers  of 
the  City,  in  their  gold  chains  and  scarlet  robes  of 
state,  and  conducted  to  a  rich  canopy  of  state  at  the 
head  of  the  great  hall,  preceded  by  heralds  making 
proclamation,  and  by  the  Mace  and  the  City  Sword. 
The  lords  and  ladies  who  were  to  attend  upon  Tom 
and  his  two  small  friends  took  their  places  behind 
their  chairs. 

At  a  lower  table  the  court  grandees  and  other 
guests  of  noble  degree  were  seated,  with  the  mag 
nates  of  the  city;  the  commoners  took  places  at  a 
multitude  of  tables  on  the  main  floor  of  the  hall. 
From  their  lofty  vantage-ground,  the  giants  Gog  and 
Magog,  the  ancient  guardians  of  the  city,  contem 
plated  the  spectacle  below  them  with  eyes  grown 
familiar  to  it  in  forgotten  generations.  There  was  a 
bugle-blast  and  a  proclamation,  and  a  fat  butler 
appeared  in  a  high  perch  in  the  leftward  wall,  fol 
lowed  by  his  servitors  bearing  with  impressive 
solemnity  a  royal  Baron  of  Beef,  smoking  hot  and 
ready  for  the  knife. 

After  grace,  Tom   (being  instructed)   rose  —  and 


90  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

the  whole  house  with  him  —  and  drank  from  a  portly 
golden  loving-cup  with  the  Princess  Elizabeth ;  from 
her  it  passed  to  the  Lady  Jane,  and  then  traversed 
the  general  assemblage.  So  the  banquet  began. 

By  midnight  the  revelry  was  at  its  height.  Now 
came  one  of  those  picturesque  spectacles  so  admired 
in  that  old  day.  A  description  of  it  is  still  extant  in 
the  quaint  wording  of  a  chronicler  who  witnessed  it : 

11  Space  being  made,  presently  entered  a  baron 
and  an  earl  appareled  after  the  Turkish  fashion  in 
long  robes  of  bawdkin  powdered  with  gold ;  hats  on 
their  heads  of  crimson  velvet,  with,  great  rolls  of 
gold,  girded  with  two  swords,  called  scimitars,  hang 
ing  by  great  bawdricks  of  gold.  Next  came  yet 
another  baron  and  another  earl,  in  two  long  gowns 
of  yellow  satin,  traversed  with  white  satin,  and  in 
every  bend  of  white  was  a  bend  of  crimson  satin, 
after  the  fashion  of  Russia,  with  furred  hats  of  gray 
on  their  heads ;  either  of  them  having  an  hatchet  in 
their  hands,  and  boots  vf'tfhpykes"  (points  a  foot 
long),  "  turned  up.  And  after  them  came  a  knight, 
then  the  Lord  High  Admiral,  and  with  him  five 
nobles,  in  doublets  of  crimson  velvet,  voycled  low 
on  the  back  and  before  to  the  cannell-bone,  laced 
on  the  breasts  with  chains  of  silver;  and,  over  that, 
short  cloaks  of  crimson  satin,  and  on  their  heads 
hats  after  the  dancers'  fashion,  with  pheasants' 
feather  in  them.  These  were  appareled  after  the 
fashion  of  Prussia.  The  torch-bearers,  which  were 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  91 

about  an  hundred,  were  appareled  in  crimson  satin 
and  green,  like  Moors,  their  faces  black.  Next 
came  in  a  mommarye.  Then  the  minstrels,  which 
were  disguised,  danced;  and  the  lords  and  ladies 
did  wildly  dance  also,  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to 
behold." 

And  while  Tom,  in  his  high  seat,  was  gazing  upon 
this  "  wild  "  dancing,  lost  in  admiration  of  the  daz 
zling  commingling  of  kaleidoscopic  colors  which  the 
whirling  turmoil  of  gaudy  figures  below  him  pre 
sented,  the  ragged  but  real  little  Prince  of  Wales  was 
proclaiming  his  rights  and  his  wrongs,  denouncing 
the  impostor,  and  clamoring  for  admission  at  the 
gates  of  Guildhall !  The  crowd  enjoyed  this  episode 
prodigiously,  and  pressed  forward  and  craned  their 
necks  to  see  the  small  rioter.  Presently  they  began 
to  taunt  him  and  mock  at  him,  purposely  to  goad 
him  into  a  higher  and  still  more  entertaining  fury. 
Tears  of  mortification  sprung  to  his  eyes,  but  he 
stood  his  ground  and  defied  the  mob  right  royally. 
Other  taunts  followed,  added  mockings  stung  him, 
and  he  exclaimed : 

'"  I  tell  ye  again,  you  pack  of  unmannerly  curs,  I 
am  the  Prince  of  Wales  !  And  all  forlorn  and  friend 
less  as  I  be,  with  none  to  give  me  word  of  grace  or 
help  me  in  my  need,  yet  will  not  I  be  driven  from 
my  ground,  but  will  maintain  it!" 

4  Though  thou  be  prince  or  no  prince, "'tis  all  one, 
thou  be'st  a  gallant  lad,  and  not  friendless  neither! 
Here  stand  I  by  thy  side  to  prove  it;  and  mind  I 


92  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

tell  thee  thou  might' st  have  a  worser  friend  than 
Miles  Hendon  and  yet  not  tire  thy  legs  with  seeking. 
Rest  thy  small  jaw,  my  child,  I  talk  the  language  of 
these  base  kennel-rats  like  to  a  very  native." 

The  speaker  was  a  sort  of  Don  Caesar  de  Bazan  in 
dress,  aspect,  and  bearing.  He  was  tall,  trim-built, 
muscular.  His  doublet  and  trunks  were  of  rich 
material,  but  faded  and  threadbare,  and  their  gold- 
lace  adornments  were  sadly  tarnished ;  his  ruff  was 
rumpled  and  damaged ;  the  plume  in  his  slouched 
hat  was  broken  and  had  a  bedraggled  and  disrepu 
table  look;  at  his  side  he  wore  a  long  rapier  in  a 
rusty  iron  sheath ;  his  swaggering  carriage  marked 
him  at  once  as  a  ruffler  of  the  camp.  The  speech 
of  this  fantastic  figure  was  received  with  an  ex 
plosion  of  jeers  and  laughter.  Some  cried,  '  'Tis 
another  prince  in  disguise!"  "  'Ware  thy  tongue, 
friend,  belike  he  is  dangerous!"  "  Marry,  he  look- 
eth  it  —  mark  his  eye!"  "  Pluck  the  lad  from  him 
—  to  the  horse-pond  wi'  the  cub!" 

Instantly  a  hand  was  laid  upon  the  prince,  under 
the  impulse  of  this  happy  thought;  as  instantly  the 
stranger's  long  sword  was  out  and  the  meddler  went 
to  the  earth  under  a  sounding  thump  with  the  flat  of 
it.  The  next  moment  a  score  of  voices  shouted 
"Kill  the  dog!  kill  him!  kill  him!"  and  the  mob 
closed  in  on  the  warrior,  who  backed  himself  against 
a  wall  and  began  to  lay  about  him  with  his  long 
weapon  like  a  madman.  His  victims  sprawled  this 
way  and  that,  but  the  mob-tide  poured  over  their 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  93 

prostrate  forms  and  dashed  itself  against  the  cham 
pion  with  undiminished  fury.  His  moments  seemed 
numbered,  his  destruction  certain,  when  suddenly  a 
trumpet-blast  sounded,  a  voice  shouted,  "  Way  for 
the  king's  messenger!"  and  a  troop  of  horsemen 
came  charging  down  upon  the  mob,  who  fled  out  of 
harm's  reach  as  fast  as  their  legs  could  carry  them. 
The  bold  stranger  caught  up  the  prince  in  his  arms, 
and  was  soon  far  away  from  danger  and  the  multi 
tude. 

Return  we  within  the  Guildhall.  Suddenly,  high 
above  the  jubilant  roar  and  thunder  of  the  revel, 
broke  the  clear  peal  of  a  bugle-note.  There  was 
instant  silence, —  a  deep  hush;  then  a  single  voice 
rose  —  that  of  the  messenger  from  the  palace  —  and 
began  to  pipe  forth  a  proclamation,  the  whole 
multitude  standing,  listening.  The  closing  words, 
solemnly  pronounced,  were: 
*  The  king  is  dead  !" 

The  great  assemblage  bent  their  heads  upon  their 
breasts  with  one  accord;  remained  so,  in  profound 
silence,  a  few  moments;  then  all  sunk  upon  their 
knees  in  a  body,  stretched  out  their  hands  toward 
Tom,  and  a  mighty  shout  burst  forth  that  seemed  to 
shake  the  building: 

"Long  live  the  king!" 

Poor  Tom's  dazed  eyes  wandered  abroad  over  this 
stupefying  spectacle,  and  finally  rested  dreamily 
upon  the  kneeling  princesses  beside  him  a  moment, 
then  upon  the  Earl  of  Hertford.  A  sudden  purpose 


94  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

dawned  in  his  face.  He  said,  in  a  low  tone,  at  Lord 
Hertford's  ear: 

"Answer  me  truly,  on  thy  faith  and  honor! 
Uttered  I  here  a  command,  the  which  none  but  a 
king  might  hold  privilege  and  prerogative  to  utter, 
would  such  commandment  be  obeyed,  and  none  rise 
up  to  say  me  nay?" 

"None,  my  liege,  in  all  these  realms.  In  thy 
person  bides  the  majesty  of  England.  Thou  art  the 
king  —  thy  word  is  law." 

Tom  responded,  in  a  strong,  earnest  voice,  and 
with  great  animation : 

"  Then  shall  the  king's  law  be  law  of  mercy,  from 
this  day,  and  never  more  be  law  of  blood  !  Up 
from  thy  knees  and  away !  To  the  Tower  and  say 
the  king  decrees  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  shall  not 
die!"* 

The  words  were  caught  up  and  carried  eagerly 
from  lip  to  lip  far  and  wide  over  the  hall,  and  as 
Hertford  hurried  from  the  presence,  another  pro 
digious  shout  burst  forth : 

"The  reign  of  blood  is  ended!  Long  live  Ed 
ward,  king  of  England !" 

*  See  Note  7,  at  end  of  volume. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE   PRINCE   AND   HIS   DELIVERER 

SS  soon  as  Miles  Hendon  and  the  little  prince 
were  clear  of  the  mob,  they  struck  down 
through  back  lanes  and  alleys  toward  the  river. 
Their  way  was  unobstructed  until  they  approached 
London  Bridge ;  then  they  plowed  into  the  multitude 
again,  Hendon  keeping  a  fast  grip  upon  the  prince's 
—  no,  the  king's  —  wrist.  The  tremendous  news 
was  already  abroad,  and  the  boy  learned  it  from  a 
thousand  voices  at  once — "The  king  is  dead!" 
The  tidings  struck  a  chill  to  the  heart  of  the  poor 
little  waif,  and  sent  a  shudder  through  his  frame. 
He  realized  the  greatness  of  his  loss,  and  was  filled 
with  a  bitter  grief;  for  the  grim  tyrant  who  had 
been  such  a  terror  to  others  had  always  been  gentle 
with  him.  The  tears  sprung  to  his  eyes  and  blurred 
all  objects.  For  an  instant  he  felt  himself  the  most 
forlorn,  outcast,  and  forsaken  of  God's  creatures  — 
then  another  cry  shook  the  night  with  its  far-reaching 
thunders:  "Long  like  King  Edward  the  Sixth!" 
and  this  made  his  eyes  kindle,  and  thrilled  him  with 
pride  to  his  fingers'  ends.  "Ah,"  he  thought, 
"  how  grand  and  strange  it  seems  —  I  AM  KING!" 

(95) 


96  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

Our  friends  threaded  their  way  slowly  through  the 
throngs  upon  the  Bridge.  This  structure,  which  had 
stood  for  six  hundred  years,  and  had  been  a  noisy 
and  populous  thoroughfare  all  that  time,  was  a  curi 
ous  affair,  for  a  closely  packed  rank  of  stores  and 
shops,  with  family  quarters  overhead,  stretched  along 
both  sides  of  it,  from  one  bank  of  the  river  to  the 
other.  The  Bridge  was  a  sort  of  town  to  itself ;  it 
had  its  inn,  its  beer  houses,  its  bakeries,  its  haber 
dasheries,  its  food  markets,  its  manufacturing  indus 
tries,  and  even  its  church.  It  looked  upon  the  two 
neighbors  which  it  linked  together  —  London  and 
Southwark  —  as  being  well  enough,  as  suburbs,  but 
not  otherwise  particularly  important,  It  was  a  close 
corporation,  so  to  speak;  it  was  a  narrow  town, 
of  a  single  street  a  fifth  of  a  mile  long,  its  popula 
tion  was  but  a  village  population,  and  everybody  in 
it  knew  all  his  fellow  townsmen  intimately,  and  had 
known  their  fathers  and  mothers  before  them  —  and 
all  their  little  family  affairs  into  the  bargain.  It  had 
its  aristocracy,  of  course  — •  its  fine  old  families  of 
butchers,  and  bakers,  and  what-not,  who  had  occu 
pied  the  same  old  premises  for  five  or  six  hundred 
years,  and  knew  the  great  history  of  the  Bridge  from 
beginning  to  end,  and  all  its  strange  legends;  and 
who  always  talked  bridgy  talk,  and  thought  bridgy 
thoughts,  and  lied  in  a  long,  level,  direct,  substantial 
bridgy  way.  It  was  just  the  sort  of  population  to 
be  narrow  and  ignorant  and  self-conceited.  Children 
were  born  on  the  Bridge,  were  reared  there,  grew  to 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  97 

old  age  and  finally  died  without  ever  having  set  a 
foot  upon  any  part  of  the  world  but  London  Bridge 
alone.  Such  people  would  naturally  imagine  that 
the  mighty  and  interminable  procession  which  moved 
through  its  street  night  and  day,  with  its  confused 
roar  of  shouts  and  cries,  its  neighings  and  bellow- 
ings  and  bleatings  and  its  muffled  thunder-tramp, 
was  the  one  great  thing  in  this  world,  and  themselves 
somehow  the  proprietors  of  it.  And  so  they  were 
in  effect  —  at  least  they  could  exhibit  it  from  their 
windows,  and  did  —  fora  consideration  —  whenever 
a  returning  king  or  hero  gave  it  a  fleeting  splendor, 
for  there  was  no  place  like  it  for  affording  a 
long,  straight,  uninterrupted  view  of  marching 
columns. 

Men  born  and  reared  upon  the  Bridge  found  life 
unendurably  dull  and  inane  elsewhere.  History  tells 
of  one  of  these  who  left  the  Bridge  at  the  age  of 
seventy-one  and  retired  to  the  country.  But  he 
could  only  fret  and  toss  in  his  bed ;  he  could  not  go 
to  sleep,  the  deep  stillness  was  so  painful,  so  awful, 
so  oppressive.  When  he  was  worn  out  with  it,  at 
last,  he  fled  back  to  his  old  home,  a  lean  and  hag 
gard  specter,  and  fell  peacefully  to  rest  and  pleasant 
dreams  under  the  lulling  music  of  the  lashing  waters 
and  the  boom  and  crash  and  thunder  of  London 
Bridge. 

In  the  times  of  which  we  are  writing,  the  Bridge 
furnished  "object  lessons"  in  English  history,  for 
its  children  —  namely,  the  livid  and  decaying  heads 
1 


98  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

of  renowned   men  impaled  upon  iron  spikes  atop  of 
its  gateways.      But  we  digress. 

Hendon's  lodgings  were  in  the  little  inn  on  the 
Bridge.  As  he  neared  the  door  with  his  small 
friend,  a  rough  voice  said: 

"So,  thou'rt  come  at  last!  Thou'lt  not  escape 
again,  I  warrant  thee;  and  if  pounding  thy  bones  to 
a  pudding  can  teach  thee  somewhat,  thou'lt  not 
keep  us  waiting  another  time,  mayhap  " — and  John 
Canty  put  out  his  hand  to  seize  the  boy. 

Miles  Hendon  stepped  in  the  way,  and  said : 

"Not  too  fast,  friend.  Thou  art  needlessly 
rough,  methinks.  What  is  the  lad  to  thee?" 

"  If  it  be  any  business  of  thine  to  make  and  med 
dle  in  others'  affairs,  he  is  my  son." 

"  'Tis  a  lie!"   cried  the  little  king,  hotly. 

"Boldly  said,  and  I  believe  thee,  whether  thy 
small  head-piece  be  sound  or  cracked,  my  boy. 
But  whether  this  scurvy  ruffian  be  thy  father  or  no, 
'tis  all  one,  he  shall  not  have  thee  to  beat  thee  and 
abuse,  according  to  his  threat,  so  thou  prefer  to 
abide  with  me." 

11 1  do,  I  do  —  I  know  him  not,  I  loathe  him,  and 
will  die  before  I  will  go  with  him." 

"Then  'tis  settled,  and  there  is  nought  more  to 
say." 

"We  will  see,  as  to  that!"  exclaimed  John 
Canty,  striding  past  Hendon  to  get  at  the  boy; 
"by  force  shall  he— " 

"  If  thou  do  but  touch  him,  thou  animated  offal, 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  99 

I  will  spit  thee  like  a  goose  !"  said  Hendon,  barring 
the  way  and  laying  his  hand  upon  his  sword  hilt. 
Canty  drew  back.  "Now  mark  ye,"  continued 
Hendon,  "I  took  this  lad  under  my  protection 
when  a  mob  of  such  as  thou  would  have  mishandled 
him,  mayhap  killed  him;  dost  imagine  I  will  desert 
him  now  to  a  worser  fate  ?  —  for  whether  thou  art  his 
father  or  no, — -and  sooth  to  say,  I  think  it  is  a  lie  — 
a  decent  swift  death  were  better  for  such  a  lad  than 
life  in  such  brute  hands  as  thine.  So  go  thy  ways, 
and  set  quick  about  it,  for  I  like  not  much  bandying 
of  words,  being  not  overpatient  in  my  nature." 

John  Canty  moved  off,  muttering  threats  and 
curses,  and  was  swallowed  from  sight  in  the  crowd. 
Hendon  ascended  three  flights  of  stairs  to  his  room, 
with  his  charge,  after  ordering  a  meal  to  be  sent 
thither.  It  was  a  poor  apartment,  with  a  shabby 
bed  and  some  odds  and  ends  of  old  furniture  in  it, 
and  was  vaguely  lighted  by  a  couple  of  sickly 
candles.  The  little  king  dragged  himself  to  the  bed 
and  lay  down  upon  it,  almost  exhausted  with  hunger 
and  fatigue.  He  had  been  on  his  feet  a  good  part 
of  a  day  and  a  night,  for  it  was  now  two  or  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  had  eaten  nothing 
meantime.  He  murmured  drowsily: 

"  Prithee,  call  me  when  the  table  is  spread,"  and 
sunk  into  a  deep  sleep  immediately. 

A  smile  twinkled  in  Hendon' s  eye,  and  he  said  to 
himself : 

"By  the   mass,  the   little   beggar  takes  to   one's 


100  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

quarters  and  usurps  one's  bed  with  as  natural  and 
easy  a  grace  as  if  he  owned  them  —  with  never  a 
by-your-leave  or  so-please-it-you,  or  anything  of 
the  sort.  In  his  diseased  ravings  he  called  himself 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  bravely  doth  he  keep  up 
the  character.  Poor  little  friendless  rat,  doubtless 
his  mind  has  been  disordered  with  ill  usage.  Well, 
I  will  be  his  friend;  I  have  saved  him,  and  it  draw- 
eth  me  strongly  to  him ;  already  I  love  the  bold- 
tongued  little  rascal.  How  soldier-like  he  faced  the 
smutty  rabble  and  flung  back  his  high  defiance ! 
And  what  a  comely,  sweet  and  gentle  face  he  hath, 
now  that  sleep  hath  conjured  away  its  troubles  and 
its  griefs.  I  will  teach  him,  I  will  cure  his  malady; 
yea,  I  will  be  his  elder  brother,  and  care  for  him 
and  watch  over  him ;  and  whoso  would  shame  him 
or  do  him  hurt,  may  order  his  shroud,  for  though  I 
be  burnt  for  it  he  shall  need  it !  " 

He  bent  over  the  boy  and  contemplated  him  with 
kind  and  pitying  interest,  tapping  the  young  cheek 
tenderly  and  smoothing  back  the  tangled  curls  with 
his  great  brown  hand.  A  slight  shiver  passed  over 
the  boy's  form.  Hendon  muttered: 

"  See,  now,  how  like  a  man  it  was  to  let  him  lie 
here  uncovered  and  fill  his  body  with  deadly  rheums. 
Now  what  shall  I  do?  'Twill  wake  him  to  take  him 
up  and  put  him  within  the  bed,  and  he  sorely  need- 
eth  sleep." 

He  looked  about  for  extra  covering,  but  finding 
none,  doffed  his  doublet  and  wrapped  the  lad  in  it, 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  ioi 

saying,  "I  am  used  to  nipping  air  and  scant  ap 
parel,  'tis  little  I  shall  mind  the  cold  " — then  walked 
up  and  down  the  room  to  keep  his  blood  in  motion, 
soliloquizing  as  before. 

11  His  injured  mind  persuades  him  he  is  Prince  of 
Wales;  'twill  be  odd  to  have  a  Prince  of  Wales  still 
with  us,  now  that  he  that  was  the  prince  is  prince 
no  more,  but  king — for  this  poor  mind  is  set  upon 
the  one  fantasy,  and  will  not  reason  out  that  now  it 
should  cast  by  the  prince  and  call  itself  the  king.  .  .  . 
If  my  father  liveth  still,  after  these  seven  years  that 
I  have  heard  nought  from  home  in  my  foreign 
dungeon,  he  will  welcome  the  poor  lad  and  give  him 
generous  shelter  for  my  sake ;  so  will  my  good  elder 
brother,  Arthur;  my  other  brother,  Hugh  —  but  I 
will  crack  his  crown,  an'  he  interfere,  the  fox- 
hearted,  ill-conditioned  animal!  Yes,  thither  will 
we  fare  —  and  straightway,  too." 

A  servant  entered  with  a  smoking  meal,  disposed 
it  upon  a  small  deal  table,  placed  the  chairs,  and 
took  his  departure,  leaving  such  cheap  lodgers  as 
these  to  wait  upon  themselves.  The  door  slammed 
after  him,  and  the  noise  woke  the  boy,  who  sprung 
to  a  sitting  posture,  and  shot  a  glad  glance  about 
him ;  then  a  grieved  look  came  into  his  face  and  he 
murmured  to  himself,  with  a  deep  sigh,  "Alack,  it 
was  but  a  dream.  Woe  is  me."  Next  he  noticed 
Miles  Hendon's  doublet  —  glanced  from  that  to 
Hendon,  comprehended  the  sacrifice  that  had  been 
made  for  him,  and  said,  gently: 


102  The'  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"Thou  art  good  to  me,  yes,  thou  art  very  good 
to  me.  Take  it  and  put  it  on  —  I  shall  not  need  it 
more." 

Then  he  got  up  and  walked  to  the  washstand  in 
the  corner,  and  stood  there  waiting.  Hendon  said 
in  a  cheery  voice  : 

"  We'll  have  a  right  hearty  sup  and  bite  now,  for 
everything  is  savory  and  smoking  hot,  and  that  and 
thy  nap  together  will  make  thee  a  little  man  again, 
never  fear  ! ' ' 

The  boy  made  no  answer,  but  bent  a  steady  look, 
that  was  filled  with  grave  surprise,  and  also  some 
what  touched  with  impatience,  upon  the  tall  knight 
of  the  sword.  Hendon  was  puzzled,  and  said: 

"What's  amiss?" 

"  Good  sir,  I  would  wash  me." 

"Oh,  is  that  all!  Ask  no  permission  of  Miles 
Hendon  for  aught  thou  cravest.  Make  thyself  per 
fectly  free  here  and  welcome,  with  all  that  are  his 
belongings." 

Still  the  boy  stood,  and  moved  not;  more,  he 
tapped  the  floor  once  or  twice  with  his  small  im 
patient  foot.  Hendon  was  wholly  perplexed.  Said 
he: 

"Bless  us,  what  is  it?" 

"  Prithee,  pour  the  water,  and  make  not  so  many 
words!" 

Hendon,  suppressing  a  horse-laugh,  and  saying  to 
himself,  "By  all  the  saints,  but  this  is  admirable!" 
stepped  briskly  forward  and  did  the  small  insolent' s 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  103 

bidding;  then  stood  by,  in  a  sort  of  stupefaction, 
until  the  command,  "Come  —  the  towel!"  woke 
him  sharply  up.  He  took  up  a  towel  from  under 
the  boy's  nose  and  handed  it  to  him,  without  com 
ment.  He  now  proceeded  to  comfort  his  own  face 
with  a  wash,  and  while  he  was  at  it  his  adopted  child 
seated  himself  at  the  table  and  prepared  to  fall  to. 
Hendon  dispatched  his  ablutions  with  alacrity,  then 
drew  back  the  other  chair  and  was  about  to  place 
himself  at  table,  when  the  boy  said,  indignantly: 

"Forbear!  VVouldst  sit  in  the  presence  of  the 
king?" 

This  blow  staggered  Hendon  to  his  foundations. 
He  muttered  to  himself,  "  Lo,  the  poor  thing's 
madness  is  up  with  the  time !  it  hath  changed  with 
the  great  change  that  is  come  to  the  realm,  and  now 
in  fancy  is  he  king  !  Good  lack,  I  must  humor  the 
conceit,  too  —  there  is  no  other  way  —  faith,  he 
would  order  me  to  the  Tower,  else  !" 

And  pleased  with  this  jest,  he  removed  the  chair 
from  the  table,  took  his  stand  behind  the  king,  and 
proceeded  to  wait  upon  him  in  the  courtliest  way  he 
was  capable  of. 

When  the  king  ate,  the  rigor  of  his  royal  dignity 
relaxed  a  little,  and  with  his  growing  contentment 
came  a  desire  to  talk.  He  said : 

"  I  think  thou  callest  thyself  Miles  Hendon,  if  I 
heard  thee  aright?" 

'Yes,    sire,"    Miles    replied;    then    observed    to 
himself,  "  If  I  must  humor  the  poor  lad's  madness, 


104  The  Prince  and  the  Paupei 

I  must  sire  him,  I  must  majesty  him,  I  must  not  go 
by  halves,  I  must  stick  at  nothing  that  belongeth  to 
the  part  I  play,  else  shall  I  play  it  ill  and  work  evil 
to  this  charitable  and  kindly  cause." 

The  king  warmed  his  heart  with  a  second  glass  of 
wine,  and  said:  "  I  would  know  thee  —  tell  me  thy 
story.  Thou  hast  a  gallant  way  with  thee,  and  a 
noble  —  art  nobly  born?" 

"We  are  of  the  tail  of  the  nobility,  good  your 
majesty.  My  father  is  a  baronet — one  of  the 
smaller  lords,  by  knight  service* —  Sir  Richard  Hen- 
don,  of  Hendon  Hall,  by  Monk's  Holm  in  Kent." 

*  The  name  has  escaped  my  memory.     Go  on  — 
tell  me  thy  story." 

'Tis  not  much,  your  majesty,  yet  perchance  it 
may  beguile  a  short  half  hour  for  want  of  a  better. 
My  father,  Sir  Richard,  is  very  rich,  and  of  a  most 
generous  nature.  My  mother  died  whilst  I  was  yet 
a  boy.  I  have  two  brothers :  Arthur,  my  elder,  with 
a  soul  like  to  his  father's;  and  Hugh,  younger  than 
I,  a  mean  spirit,  covetous,  treacherous,  vicious, 
underhanded  —  a  reptile.  Such  was  he  from  the 
cradle ;  such  was  he  ten  years  past,  when  I  last  saw 
him  —  a  ripe  rascal  at  nineteen,  I  being  twenty  then, 
and  Arthur  twenty-two.  There  is  none  other  of  us 
but  the  Lady  Edith,  my  cousin  —  she  was  sixteen, 
then  —  beautiful,  gentle,  good,  the  daughter  of  an 


*  He  refers  to  the  order  of  baronets,  or  baronettes,  —  the  baroner 
minor es>   as  distinct  from   the  parliamentary  barons  ;  —  not,   it 
hardly  be  said,  the  baronets  of  later  creation. 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  105 

earl,  the  last  of  her  race,  heiress  of  a  great  fortune 
and  a  lapsed  title.  My  father  was  her  guardian.  I 
loved  her  and  she  loved  me ;  but  she  was  betrothed 
to  Arthur  from  the  cradle,  and  Sir  Richard  would 
not  suffer  the  contract  to  be  broken.  Arthur  loved 
another  maid,  and  bade  us  be  of  good  cheer  and 
hold  fast  to  the  hope  that  delay  and  luck  together 
would  some  day  give  success  to  our  several  causes. 
Hugh  loved  the  Lady  Edith's  fortune,  though  in 
truth  he  said  it  was  herself  he  loved — -but  then  'twas 
his  way,  alway,  to  say  one  thing  and  mean  the 
other.  But  he  lost  his  arts  upon  the  girl ;  he  could 
deceive  my  father,  but  none  else.  My  father  loved 
him  best  of  us  all,  and  trusted  and  believed  him ; 
for  he  was  the  youngest  child  and  others  hated  him 

—  these  qualities  being  in  all  ages  sufficient  to  win  a 
parent's   dearest   love;   and  he   had   a   smooth   per 
suasive  tongue,  with  an   admirable   gift   of  lying  — 
and   these   be   qualities   which   do   mightily  assist   a 
blind  affection  to  cozen  itself.      I  was  wild  —  in  troth 
I   might   go   yet   farther   and  say  very  wild,  though 
'twas  a  wildness  of   an   innocent   sort,  since   it   hurt 
none  but  me,  brought  shame  to  none,  nor  loss,  nor 
had    in   it  any  taint  of   crime   or   baseness,  or  what 
might  not  beseem  mine  honorable  degree. 

1  Yet  did  my  brother  Hugh  turn  these  faults  to 
good  account  —  he  seeing  that  our  brother  Arthur's 
health  was  but  indifferent,  and  hoping  the  worst 
might  work  him  profit  were  I  swept  out  of  the  path 

—  so, —  but  'twere  a  long  tale,  good  my  liege,  and 


106  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

little  worth  the  telling.  Briefly,  then,  this  brother 
did  deftly  magnify  my  faults  and  make  them  crimes ; 
ending  his  base  work  with  finding  a  silken  ladder  in 
mine  apartments  —  conveyed  thither  by  his  own 
means  —  and  did  convince  my  father  by  this,  and 
suborned  evidence  of  servants  and  other  lying 
knaves,  that  I  was  minded  to  carry  off  my  Edith 
and  marry  with  her,  in  rank  defiance  of  his  will. 

"Three  years  of  banishment  from  home  and 
England  might  make  a  soldier  and  a  man  of  me,  my 
father  said,  and  teach  me  some  degree  of  wisdom. 
I  fought  out  my  long  probation  in  the  continental 
wars,  tasting  sumptuously  of  hard  knocks,  privation, 
and  adventure ;  but  in  my  last  battle  I  was  taken 
captive,  and  during  the  seven  years  that  have  waxed 
and  waned  since  then,  a  foreign  dungeon  hath  har 
bored  me.  Through  wit  and  courage  I  won  to  the 
free  air  at  last,  and  fled  hither  straight;  and  am  but 
just  arrived,  right  poor  in  purse  and  raiment,  and 
poorer  still  in  knowledge  of  what  these  dull  seven 
years  have  wrought  at  Hendon  Hall,  its  people  and 
belongings.  So  please  you,  sir,  my  meager  tale  is 
told." 

"Thou  hast  been  shamefully  abused!"  said 
the  little  king,  with  a  flashing  eye.  "But  I  will 
right  thee  —  by  the  cross  will  I !  The  king  hath 
said  it." 

Then,  fired  by  the  story  of  Miles'  wrongs,  he 
loosed  his  tongue  and  poured  the  history  of  his  own 
recent  misfortunes  into  the  ears  of  his  astonished 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  107 

listener.  When  he  had  finished,  Miles  said  to  him 
self: 

"  Lo,  what  an  imagination  he  hath!  Verily  this 
is  no  common  mind;  else,  crazed  or  sane,  it  could 
not  weave  so  straight  and  gaudy  a  tale  as  this  out  of 
the  airy  nothings  wherewith  it  hath  wrought  this 
curious  romaunt.  Poor  ruined  little  head,  it  shall 
not  lack  friend  or  shelter  whilst  I  bide  with  the 
living.  He  shall  never  leave  my  side ;  he  shall  be 
my  pet,  my  little  comrade.  And  he  shall  be  cured  ! 
—  aye,  made  whole  and  sound  —  then  will  he  make 
himself  a  name — -and  proud  shall  I  be  to  say,  *  Yes, 
he  is  mine  —  I  took  him,  a  homeless  little  rag 
amuffin,  but  I  saw  what  was  in  him,  and  I  said  his 
name  would  be  heard  someday  —  behold  him,  ob 
serve  him  —  was  I  right?" 

The  king  spoke  —  in  a  thoughtful,  measured  voice : 

'  Thou  didst  save  me  injury  and  shame,  perchance 

my  life,  and  so  my  crown.     Such  service  demandeth 

rich  reward.      Name  thy  desire,  and  so  it  be  within 

the  compass  of  my  royal  power,  it  is  thine." 

This  fantastic  suggestion  startled  Hendon  out  of 
his  revery.  He  was  about  to  thank  the  king  and 
put  the  matter  aside  with  saying  he  had  only  done 
his  duty  and  desired  no  reward,  but  a  wiser  thought 
came  into  his  head,  and  he  asked  leave  to  be  silent  a 
few  moments  and  consider  the  gracious  offer  —  an 
idea  which  the  king  gravely  approved,  remarking 
that  it  was  best  to  be  not  too  hasty  with  a  thing  of 
such  great  import. 


108  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

Miles  reflected  during  some  moments,  then  said  to 
himself,  "Yes,  that  is  the  thing  to  do  —  by  any 
other  means  it  were  impossible  to  get  at  it  —  and 
certes,  this  hour's  experience  has  taught  me  'twould 
be  most  wearing  and  inconvenient  to  continue  it  as 
it  is.  Yes,  I  will  propose  it;  'twas  a  happy  acci 
dent  that  I  did  not  throw  the  chance  away."  Then 
he  dropped  upon  one  knee  and  said : 

"  My  poor  service  went  not  beyond  the  limit  of  a 
subject's  simple  duty,  and  therefore  hath  no  merit; 
but  since  your  majesty  is  pleased  to  hold  it  worthy 
some  reward,  I  take  heart  of  grace  to  make  petition 
to  this  effect.  Near  four  hundred  years  ago,  as 
your  grace  knoweth,  there  being  ill  blood  betwixt 
John,  king  of  England,  and  the  king  of  France,  it 
was  decreed  that  two  champions  should  fight  to 
gether  in  the  lists,  and  so  settle  the  dispute  by  what 
is  called  the  arbitrament  of  God.  These  two  kings, 
and  the  Spanish  king,  being  assembled  to  witness 
and  judge  the  conflict,  the  French  champion  ap 
peared  ;  but  so  redoubtable  was  he  that  our  English 
knights  refused  to  measure  weapons  with  him.  So 
the  matter,  which  was  a  weighty  one,  was  like  to  go 
against  the  English  monarch  by  default.  Now  in 
the  Tower  lay  the  Lord  de  Courcy,  the  mightiest 
arm  in  England,  stripped  of  his  honors  and  posses 
sions,  and  wasting  with  long  captivity.  Appeal  was 
made  to  him ;  he  gave  assent,  and  came  forth  ar 
rayed  for  battle ;  but  no  sooner  did  the  Frenchman 
glimpse  his  huge  frame  and  hear  his  famous  name 


RISE,    SIR    MILES     IIENDON,    KNIGHT 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  109 

but  he  fled  away,  and  the  French  king's  cause  was 
lost.  King  John  restored  De  Courcy's  titles  and 
possessions,  and  said,  '  Name  thy  wish  and  thou 
shalt  have  it,  though  it  cost  me  half  my  kingdom;' 
whereat  De  Courcy,  kneeling,  as  I  do  now,  made 
answer,  '  This,  then,  I  ask,  my  liege;  that  I  and  my 
successors  may  have  and  hold  the  privilege  of  re 
maining  covered  in  the  presence  of  the  kings  of 
England,  henceforth  while  the  throne  shall  last.' 
The  boon  was  granted,  as  your  majesty  knoweth; 
and  there  hath  been  no  time,  these  four  hundred 
years,  that  that  line  has  failed  of  an  heir;  and  so, 
even  unto  this  day,  the  head  of  that  ancient  house 
still  weareth  his  hat  or  helm  before  the  king's 
majesty,  without  let  or  hindrance,  and  this  none 
other  may  do.*  Invoking  this  precedent  in  aid  of 
my  prayer,  I  beseech  the  king  to  grant  to  me  but 
this  one  grace  and  privilege  —  to  my  more  than 
sufficient  reward  —  and  none  other,  to  wit:  that  I 
and  my  heirs,  forever,  may  sit  in  the  presence  of 
the  majesty  of  England  !" 

'  Rise,  Sir  Miles  Hendon,  knight,"  said  the  king, 
gravely — giving  the  accolade  with  Hendon's  sword 

"  rise,  and  seat  thyself.  Thy  petition  is  granted. 
While  England  remains,  and  the  crown  continues, 
the  privilege  shall  not  lapse," 

His  majesty  walked  apart,  musing,  and  Hendon 
dropped  into  a  chair  at  table,  observing  to  himself, 

*  The  lords  of  Kingsale,  descendants  of  De  Courcy,  still  enjoy  this 
curious  privilege. 


110  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"  'Twas  a  brave  thought,  and  hath  wrought  me  a 
mighty  deliverance;  my  legs  are  grievously  weaned. 
An'  I  had  not  thought  of  that,  I  must  have  had  to 
stand  for  weeks,  till  my  poor  lad's  wits  are  cured," 
After  a  little  he  went  on,  "  And  so  I  am  become  a 
knight  of  the  Kingdom  of  Dreams  and  Shadows ! 
A  most  odd  and  strange  position,  truly,  for  one  so 
matter-of-fact  as  I.  I  will  not  laugh  —  no,  God 
forbid,  for  this  thing  which  is  so  substanceless  to 
me  is  real  to  him.  And  to  me,  also,  in  one  way,  it 
is  not  a  falsity,  for  it  reflects  with  truth  the  sweet 
and  generous  spirit  that  is  in  him."  After  a  pause: 
"  Ah,  what  if  he  should  call  me  by  my  fine  title  be 
fore  folk  !  — there'd  be  a  merry  contrast  betwixt  my 
glory  and  my  raiment!  But  no  matter;  let  him 
call  me  what  he  will,  so  it  please  him;  I  shall  be 
content." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE  DISAPPEARANCE  OF  THE  PRINCE 

S  HEAVY  drowsiness  presently  fell  upon  the  two 
comrades.  The  king  said: 

"  Remove  these  rags  " — meaning  his  clothing. 

Hendon  disappareled  the  boy  without  dissent  or 
remark,  tucked  him  up  in  bed,  then  glanced  about 
the  room,  saying  to  himself,  ruefully,  '*  He  hath 
taken  my  bed  again,  as  before — -marry,  what  shall 
/do?"  The  little  king  observed  his  perplexity,  and 
dissipated  it  with  a  word.  He  said,  sleepily: 

**  Thou  wilt  sleep  athwart  the  door,  and  guard 
it."  In  a  moment  more  he  was  out  of  his  troubles, 
in  a  deep  slumber. 

"  Dear  heart,  he  should  have  been  born  a  king!" 
muttered  Kendon,  admiringly;  "he  playeth  the 
part  to  a  marvel." 

Then  he  stretched  himself  across  the  door,  on  the 
floor,  saying  contentedly: 

*'  I  have  lodged  worse  for  seven  years;  'twould 
be  but  ill  gratitude  to  Him  above  to  find  fault  with 
this." 

He  dropped  asleep  as  the  dawn  appeared.  Toward 

("O 


112  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

noon  he  rose,  uncovered  his  unconscious  ward  — a 
section  at  a  time  —  and  took  his  measure  with  a 
string.  The  king  awoke,  just  as  he  had  completed 
his  work,  complained  of  the  cold,  and  asked  what 
he  was  doing. 

"  'Tis  done  now,  my  liege,"  said  Hendon ;  "I 
have  a  bit  of  business  outside,  but  will  presently  re 
turn ;  sleep  thou  again  —  thou  needest  it.  There  — 
let  me  cover  thy  head  also  —  thou 'It  be  warm  the 
sooner." 

The  king  was  back  in  dreamland  before  this 
speech  was  ended.  Miles  slipped  softly  out,  and 
slipped  as  softly  in  again,  in  the  course  of  thirty  or 
forty  minutes,  with  a  complete  second-hand  suit  of 
boy's  clothing,  of  cheap  material,  and  showing  signs 
of  wear ;  but  tidy,  and  suited  to  the  season  of  the 
year.  He  seated  himself,  and  began  to  overhaul  his 
purchase,  mumbling  to  himself: 

"A  longer  purse  would  have  got  a  better  sort, 
but  when  one  has  not  the  long  purse  one  must  be 
content  with  what  a  short  one  may  do  — 

"  'There  was  a  woman  in  our  town, 
In  our  town  did  dwell ' — 

"  He  stirred,  methinks  — I  must  sing  in  a  less 
thunderous  key;  'tis  not  good  to  mar  his  sleep,  with 
this  journey  before  him  and  he  so  wearied  out,  poor 

chap This     garment — 'tis    well     enough  —  a 

stitch  here  and  another  one  there  will  set  it  aright. 
This  other  is  better,  albeit  a  stitch  or  two  will  not 
come  amiss  in  it,  likewise .These  be  very  good 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  113 

and  sound,  and  will  keep  his  small  feet  warm  and 
dry  —  an  odd  new  thing  to  him,  belike,  since  he  has 
doubtless  been  used  to  foot  it  bare,  winters  and 

summers  the  same Would  thread  were  bread, 

seeing  one  getteth  a  year's  sufficiency  for  a  farthing, 
and  such  a  brave  big  needle  without  cost,  for  mere 
love.  Now  shall  I  have  the  demon's  own  time  to 
thread  it!" 

And  so  he  had.  He  did  as  men  have  always 
done,  and  probably  always  will  do,  to  the  end  of 
time  —  held  the  needle  still,  and  tried  to  thrust  the 
thread  through  the  eye,  which  is  the  opposite  of  a 
woman's  way.  Time  and  time  again  the  thread 
missed  the  mark,  going  sometimes  on  one  side  of 
the  needle,  sometimes  on  the  other,  sometimes 
doubling  up  against  the  shaft;  but  he  was  patient, 
having  been  through  these  experiences  before,  when 
he  was  soldiering.  He  succeeded  at  last,  and  took 
up  the  garment  that  had  lain  waiting,  meantime, 
across  his  lap,  and  began  his  work.  *  The  inn  is 
paid  —  the  breakfast  that  is  to  come,  included  —  and 
there  is  wherewithal  left  to  buy  a  couple  of  donkeys 
and  meet  our  little  costs  for  the  two  or  three  days 
betwixt  this  and  the  plenty  that  awaits  us  at  Hendon 
Hall  — 

"  '  She  loved  her  hus  '— 

"  Body  o'  me!  I  have  driven  the  needle  under 
my  nail!.  .  ...  .It  matters  little — 'tis  not  a  novelty 

—  yet  'tis  not  a  convenience,  neither We  shall 

8 


114  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

be  merry  there,  little  one,  never  doubt  it!  Thy 
troubles  will  vanish  there,  and  likewise  thy  sad  dis 
temper  — 

"  '  She  Icved  her  husband  dearilee, 
But  another  man  ' — 

'*  These  be  noble  large  stitches!" — holding  the 
garment  up  and  viewing  it  admiringly — "  they  have 
a  grandeur  and  a  majesty  that  do  cause  these  small 
stingy  ones  of  the  tailor-man  to  look  mighty  paltry 
and  plebeian  — 

"  '  She  loved  her  husband  dearilee, 
But  another  man  he  loved  she,' — 

"  Marry,  'tis  done  —  a  goodly  piece  of  work, 
too,  and  wrought  with  expedition.  Now  will  I 
wake  him,  apparel  him,  pour  for  him,  feed  him, 
and  then  will  we  hie  us  to  the  mart  by  the  Tabard 
inn  in  Southwark  and  —  be  pleased  to  rise,  my 
liege  ?  —  he  answereth  not —  what  ho,  my  liege  !  — 
of  a  truth  must  I  profane  his  sacred  person  with  a 
touch,  sith  his  slumber  is  deaf  to  speech.  What!" 

He  threw  back  the  covers  —  the  boy  was  gone ! 

He  stared  about  him  in  speechless  astonishment 
for  a  moment;  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  his 
ward's  ragged  raiment  was  also  missing,  then  he 
began  to  rage  and  storm,  and  shout  for  the  inn 
keeper.  At  that  moment  a  servant  entered  with  the 
breakfast. 

"Explain,  thou  limb  of  Satan,  or  thy  time  is 
come ! ' '  roared  the  man  of  war,  and  made  so  savage 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  115 

a  spring  toward  the  waiter  that  this  latter  could  not 
find  his  tongue,  for  the  instant,  for  fright  and  sur 
prise.  *'  Where  is  the  boy?" 

In  disjointed  and  trembling  syllables  the  man  gave 
the  information  desired. 

I  You   were   hardly   gone   from   the    place,    your 
worship,  when   a   youth   came   running  and   said   it 
was  your  worship's   will  that  the  boy  come  to  you 
straight,  at  the  bridge-end  on  the  Southwark  side.    I 
brought  him  hither ;   and  when  he  woke  the  lad  and 
gave   his   message,  the   lad  did   grumble  some  little 
for  being  disturbed  '  so   early,'  as   he  called   it,  but 
straightway  trussed  on  his  rags  and  went  with  the 
youth,  only  saying  it  had  been  better  manners  that 
your  worship  came  yourself,  not  sent  a  stranger  — 
and  so  — " 

"And  so  thou'rt  a  fool!  —  a  fool,  and  easily 
cozened  — -  hang  all  thy  breed  !  Yet  mayhap  no 
hurt  is  done.  Possibly  no  harm  is  meant  the  boy. 
I  will  go  fetch  him.  Make  the  table  ready.  Stay! 
the  coverings  of  the  bed  were  disposed  as  if  one  lay 
beneath  them  —  happened  that  by  accident?" 

:<  I  know  not,  good  your  worship.  I  saw  the 
youth  meddle  with  them  —  he  that  came  for  the 
boy." 

"Thousand  deaths!  'twas  done  to  deceive  me — • 
'tis  plain  'twas  done  to  gain  time.  Hark  ye!  Was 
that  youth  alone?" 

II  All  alone,  your  worship." 
"  Art  sure?" 

2 


116  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

**  Sure,  your  worship." 

"  Collect  thy  scattered  wits  —  bethink  thee  —  take 
time,  man." 

After  a  moment's  thought,  the  servant  said: 

"When  he  came,  none  came  with  him;  but  now 
I  remember  me  that  as  the  two  stepped  into  the 
throng  of  the  Bridge,  a  ruffian-looking  man  plunged 
out  from  some  near  place;  and  just  as  he  was  join 
ing  them — " 

"What^tf? —  out  with  it!"  thundered  the  im 
patient  Hendon,  interrupting. 

11  Just  then  the  crowd  lapped  them  up  and  closed 
them  in,  and  I  saw  no  more,  being  called  by  my 
master,  who  was  in  a  rage  because  a  joint  that  the 
scrivener  had  ordered  was  forgot,  though  I  take  all 
the  saints  to  witness  that  to  blame  me  for  that  mis 
carriage  wrere  like  holding  the  unborn  babe  to  judg 
ment  for  sins  com — " 

"  Out  of  my  sight,  idiot!  Thy  prating  drives  me 
mad!  Hold!  whither  art  flying?  Canst  not  bide 
still  an  instant?  Went  they  toward  Southwark?" 

"Even  so,  your  worship — -for,  as  I  said  before, 
as  to  that  detestable  joint,  the  babe  unborn  is  no 
whit  more  blameless  than — " 

"Art  herej^/  And  prating  still?  Vanish,  lest 
I  throttle  thee!"  The  servitor  vanished.  Hendon 
followed  after  him,  passed  him,  and  plunged  down 
the  stairs  two  steps  at  a  stride,  muttering,  *  'Tis 
that  scurvy  villain  that  claimed  he  was  his  son.  I 
have  lost  thee,  my  poor  little  mad  master  —  it  is  a 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  117 

bitter  thought  —  and  I  had  come  to  love  thee  so  ! 
No!  by  book  and  bell,  not  lost!  Not  lost,  for  I 
will  ransack  the  land  till  I  find  thee  again.  Poor 
child,  yonder  is  his  breakfast  —  and  mine,  but  I 
have  no  hunger  now  —  so,  let  the  rats  have  it  — 
speed,  speed!  that  is  the  word!"  As  he  wormed 
his  swift  way  through  the  noisy  multitudes  upon  the 
Bridge,  he  several  times  said  to  himself  —  clinging 
to  the  thought  as  if  it  were  a  particularly  pleasing 
one:  "He  grumbled,  but  he  went — he  went,  yes, 
because  he  thought  Miles  Hendon  asked  it,  sweet 
lad  —  he  would  ne'er  have  done  it  for  another,  I 
know  it  well !" 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

"LE   ROI   EST   MORT  —  VIVE   LE   ROI" 

TOWARD  daylight  of  the  same  morning,  Tom 
Canty  stirred  out  of  a  heavy  sleep  and  opened 
his  eyes  in  the  dark.  He  lay  silent  a  few  moments, 
trying  to  analyze  his  confused  thoughts  and  impres 
sions,  and  get  some  sort  of  meaning  out  of  them, 
then  suddenly  he  burst  out  in  a  rapturous  but 
guarded  voice : 

44 1  see  it  all,  I  see  it  all !  Now  God  be  thanked, 
I  am,  indeed,  awake  at  last!  Come,  joy!  vanish, 
sorrow!  Ho,  Nan!  Bet!  kick  off  your  straw  and 
hie  ye  hither  to  my  side,  till  I  do  pour  into  your 
unbelieving  ears  the  wildest  madcap  dream  that  ever 
the  spirits  of  night  did  conjure  up  to  astonish 

the    soul    of   man    withal! Ho,    Nan,    I    say! 

Bet!" 

A  dim  form  appeared  at  his  side,  and  a  voice  said : 
"  Wilt  deign  to  deliver  thy  commands?" 

"  Commands? Oh,  woe  is  me,  I  know  thy 

voice!     Speak,  thou  — who  am  I?" 

14  Thou?  In  sooth,  yesternight  wert  thou  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  to-day  art  thou  my  most  gracious 
liege,  Edward,  king  of  England." 

(118) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  119 

Tom  buried  his  head  among  his  pillows,  murmur 
ing  plaintively : 

"  Alack,  it  was  no  dream !  Go  to  thy  rest,  sweet 
sir  —  leave  me  to  my  sorrows." 

Tom  slept  again,  and  after  a  time  he  had  this 
pleasant  dream.  He  thought  it  was  summer  and  he 
was  playing,  all  alone,  in  the  fair  meadow  called 
Goodman's  Fields,  when  a  dwarf  only  a  foot  high, 
with  long  red  whiskers  and  a  humped  back,  appeared 
to  him  suddenly  and  said,  "Dig,  by  that  stump." 
He  did  so,  and  found  twelve  bright  new  pennies  — 
wonderful  riches  !  Yet  this  was  not  the  best  of  it ; 
for  the  dwarf  said : 

11  I  know  thee.  Thou  art  a  good  lad  and  deserv 
ing;  thy  distresses  shall  end,  for  the  day  of  thy  re 
ward  is  come.  Dig  here  every  seventh  day,  and 
thou  shalt  find  always  the  same  treasure,  twelve 
bright  new  pennies.  Tell  none  —  keep  the  secret." 

Then  the  dwarf  vanished,  and  Tom  flew  to  Offal 
Court  with  his  prize,  saying  to  himself,  "  Every 
night  will  I  give  my  father  a  penny ;  he  will  think  I 
begged  it,  it  will  glad  his  heart,  and  I  shall  no  more 
be  beaten.  One  penny  every  week  the  good  priest 
that  teacheth  me  shall  have ;  mother,  Nan  and  Bet 
the  other  four.  We  be  done  with  hunger  and  rags 
now,  done  with  fears  and  frets  and  savage  usage." 

In  his  dream  he  reached  his  sordid  home  all  out 
of  breath,  but  with  eyes  dancing  with  grateful  en 
thusiasm  ;  cast  four  of  his  pennies  into  his  mother's 
lap  and  cried  out: 


120  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

*  They  are  for  thee  !  —  all  of  them,  every  one  !  — 
for  thee  and  Nan  and  Bet  —  and  honestly  come  by, 
not  begged  nor  stolen  !" 

The  happy  and  astonished  mother  strained  him  to 
her  breast  and  exclaimed  : 

; '  It  waxeth  late  —  may  it  please  your  majesty  to 
rise?" 

Ah,  that  was  not  the  answer  he  was  expecting. 
The  dream  had  snapped  asunder  —  he  was  awake. 

He  opened  his  eyes  —  the  richly  clad  First  Lord 
of  the  Bedchamber  was  kneeling  by  his  couch.  The 
gladness  of  the  lying  dream  faded  away  —  the  poor 
boy  recognized  that  he  was  still  a  captive  and  a 
king.  The  room  was  filled  with  courtiers  clothed  in 
purple  mantles  —  the  mourning  color  —  and  with 
noble  servants  of  the  monarch.  Tom  sat  up  in  bed 
and  gazed  out  from  the  heavy  silken  curtains  upon 
this  fine  company. 

The  weighty  business  of  dressing  began,  and  one 
courtier  after  another  knelt  and  paid  his  court  and 
offered  to  the  little  king  his  condolences  upon  his 
heavy  loss,  while  the  dressing  proceeded.  In  the 
beginning,  a  shirt  was  taken  up  by  the  Chief  Equerry 
in  Waiting,  who  passed  it  to  the  First  Lord  of  the 
Buckhounds,  who  passed  it  to  the  Second  Gentle 
man  of  the  Bedchamber,  who  passed  it  to  the  Head 
Ranger  of  Windsor  Forest,  who  passed  it  to  the 
Third  Groom  of  the  Stole,  who  passed  it  to  the 
Chancellor  Royal  of  the  Duchy  of  Lancaster,  who 
passed  it  to  the  Master  of  the  Wardrobe,  who  passed 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  121 

it  to  Norroy  King-at-Arms,  who  passed  it  to  the 
Constable  of  the  Tower,  who  passed  it  to  the  Chief 
Steward  of  the  Household,  who  passed  it  to  the 
Hereditary  Grand  Diaperer,  who  passed  it  to  the 
Lord  High  Admiral  of  England,  who  passed  it  to 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  who  passed  it  to 
the  First  Lord  of  the  Bedchamber,  who  took  what 
was  left  of  it  and  put  it  on  Tom.  Poor  little  wonder 
ing  chap,  it  reminded  him  of  passing  buckets  at  a 
fire. 

Each  garment  in  its  turn  had  to  go  through  this 
slow  and  solemn  process ;  consequently  Tom  grew 
very  weary  of  the  ceremony;  so  weary  that  he  felt 
an  almost  gushing  gratefulness  when  he  at  last  saw 
his  long  silken  hose  begin  the  journey  down  the  line 
and  knew  that  the  end  of  the  matter  was  drawing 
near.  But  he  exulted  too  soon.  The  first  Lord  of 
the  Bedchamber  received  the  hose  and  was  about  to 
encase  Tom's  legs  in  them,  when  a  sudden  flush 
invaded  his  face  and  he  hurriedly  hustled  the  things 
back  into  the  hands  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canter 
bury  with  an  astounded  look  and  a  whispered, 
"  See,  my  lord!" — pointing  to  a  something  con 
nected  with  the  hose,  The  Archbishop  paled,  then 
flushed,  and  passed  the  hose  to  the  Lord  High  Ad 
miral,  whispering,  "See,  my  lord!"  The  Admiral 
passed  the  hose  to  the  Hereditary  Grand  Diaperer, 
and  had  hardly  breath  enough  in  his  body  to  ejacu 
late,  "  See,  my  lord!"  The  hose  drifted  backward 
along  the  line,  to  the  Chief  Steward  of  the  House- 


122  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

hold,  the  Constable  of  the  Tower,  Norroy  King-at- 
Arms,  the  Master  of  the  Wardrobe,  the  Chancellor 
Royal  of  the  Duchy  of  Lancaster,  the  Third  Groom 
of  the  Stole,  the  Head  Ranger  of  Windsor  Forest, 
the  Second  Gentleman  of  the  Bedchamber,  the  First 
Lord  of  the  Buckhounds, —  accompanied  always 
with  that  amazed  and  frightened  "  See  !  see  !" — till 
they  finally  reached  the  hands  of  the  Chief  Equerry 
in  Waiting,  who  gazed  a  moment,  with  a  pallid  face, 
upon  what  had  caused  all  this  dismay,  then  hoarsely 
whispered,  "Body  of  my  life,  a  tag  gone  from  a 
truss  point !  —  to  the  Tower  with  the  Head  Keeper 
of  the  King's  Hose!" — after  which  he  leaned  upon 
the  shoulder  of  the  First  Lord  of  the  Buckhounds  to 
re-gather  his  vanished  strength  while  fresh  hose, 
without  any  damaged  strings  to  them,  \vere  brought. 
But  all  things  must  have  an  end,  and  so  in  time 
Tom  Canty  was  in  a  condition  to  get  out  of  bed. 
The  proper  official  poured  water,  the  proper  official 
engineered  the  washing,  the  proper  official  stood  by 
with  a  towel,  and  by  and  by  Tom  got  safely  through 
the  purifying  stage  and  was  ready  for  the  services  of 
the  Hairdresser-royal.  When  he  at  length  emerged 
from  his  master's  hands,  he  was  a  gracious  figure 
and  as  pretty  as  a  girl,  in  his  mantle  and  trunks  of 
purple  satin,  and  purple-plumed  cap.  He  now 
moved  in  state  toward  his  breakfast  room,  through 
the  midst  of  the  courtly  assemblage ;  and  as  he 
passed,  these  fell  back,  leaving  his  way  free,  and 
dropped  upon  their  knees. 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  123 

After  breakfast  he  was  conducted,  with  regal 
ceremony,  attended  by  his  great  officers  and  his 
guard  of  fifty  Gentlemen  Pensioners  bearing  gilt 
battle-axes,  to  the  throne-room,  where  he  proceeded 
to  transact  business  of  state.  His  "uncle,"  Lord 
Hertford,  took  his  stand  by  the  throne,  to  assist  the 
royal  mind  with  wise  counsel. 

The  body  of  illustrious  men  named  by  the  late 
king  as  his  executors,  appeared,  to  ask  Tom's  ap 
proval  of  certain  acts  of  theirs  —  rather  a  form,  and 
yet  not  wholly  a  form,  since  there  was  no  Protector 
as  yet.  The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  made  report 
of  the  degree  of  the  Council  of  Executors  concern 
ing  the  obsequies  of  his  late  most  illustrious  majesty, 
and  finished  by  reading  the  signatures  of  the  execu 
tors,  to  wit:  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury;  the 
Lord  Chancellor  of  England ;  William  Lord  St. 
John ;  John  Lord  Russell ;  Edward  Earl  of  Hert 
ford  ;  John  Viscount  Lisle;  Cuthbert  Bishop  of 
Durham  — 

Tom  was  not  listening  —  an  earlier  clause  of  the 
document  was  puzzling  him.  At  this  point  he  turned 
and  whispered  to  Lord  Hertford : 

14  What  day  did  he  say  the  burial  hath  been  ap 
pointed  for?" 

*  The  i6th  of  the  coming  month,  my  liege/* 

11  Tis  a  strange  folly.     Will  he  keep?" 

Poor  chap,  he  was  still  new  to  the  customs  of 
royalty;  he  was  used  to  seeing  the  forlorn  dead  of 
Offal  Court  hustled  out  of  the  way  with  a  very 


124  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

different   sort    of    expedition.      However,   the   Lord 
Hertford  set  his  mind  at  rest  with  a  word  or  two. 

A  secretary  of  state  presented  an  order  of  the 
Council  appointing  the  morrow  at  eleven  for  the  re 
ception  of  the  foreign  ambassadors,  and  desired  the 
king's  assent. 

Tom  turned  an  inquiring  look  toward  Hertford, 
who  whispered : 

'  Your  majesty  will  signify  consent.  They  come 
to  testify  their  royal  masters'  sense  of  the  heavy 
calamity  which  hath  visited  your  grace  and  the  realm 
of  England." 

Tom  did  as  he  was  bidden.  Another  secretary 
began  to  read  a  preamble  concerning  the  expenses 
of  the  late  king's  household,  which  had  amounted  to 
^"28,000  during  the  preceding  six  months  —  a  sum 
so  vast  that  it  made  Tom  Canty  gasp ;  he  gasped 
again  when  the  fact  appeared  that  ,£20,000  of  this 
money  were  still  owing  and  unpaid;*  and  once  more 
when  it  appeared  that  the  king's  coffers  were  about 
empty,  and  his  twelve  hundred  servants  much  em 
barrassed  for  lack  of  the  wages  due  them.  Tom 
spoke  out,  with  lively  apprehension. 

'  We  be  going  to  the  dogs,  'tis  plain.  'Tis  meet 
and  necessary  that  we  take  a  smaller  house  and  set 
the  servants  at  large,  sith  they  be  of  no  value  but  to 
make  delay,  and  trouble  one  with  offices  that  harass 
the  spirit  and  shame  the  soul,  they  misbecoming 
any  but  a  doll,  that  hath  nor  brains  nor  hands  to 

*  Hume. 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  125 

help  itself  withal.  I  remember  me  of  a  small  house 
that  standeth  over  against  the  fish-market,  by  Bill 
ingsgate — " 

A  sharp  pressure  upon  Tom's  arm  stopped  his 
foolish  tongue  and  sent  a  blush  to  his  face ;  but  no 
countenance  there  betrayed  any  sign  that  this  strange 
speech  had  been  remarked  or  given  concern. 

A  secretary  made  report  that  forasmuch  as  the 
late  king  had  provided  in  his  will  for  conferring  the 
ducal  degree  upon  the  Earl  of  Hertford  and  raising 
his  brother,  Sir  Thomas  Seymour,  to  the  peerage, 
and  likewise  Hertford's  son  to  an  earldom,  together 
with  similar  aggrandizements  to  other  great  servants 
of  the  crown,  the  Council  had  resolved  to  hold  a 
sitting  on  the  i6th  of  February  for  the  delivering 
and  confirming  of  these  honors ;  and  that  meantime 
the  late  king  not  having  granted,  in  writing,  estates 
suitable  to  the  support  of  these  dignities,  the 
council,  knowing  his  private  wishes  in  that  regard, 
had  thought  proper  to  grant  to  Seymour  "  500 
pound  lands,"  and  to  Hertford's  son  "  800  pound 
lands,  and  300  pound  of  the  next  bishop's  lands 
which  should  fall  vacant," — his  present  majesty 
being  willing.* 

Tom  was  about  to  blurt  out  something  about  the 
propriety  of  paying  the  late  king's  debts  first  before 
squandering  all  this  money;  but  a  timely  touch 
upon  his  arm,  from  the  thoughtful  Hertford,  saved 
him  this  indiscretion ;  wherefore  he  gave  the  royal 


*Hume. 
9 


126  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

assent,  without  spoken  comment,  but  with  much  in 
ward  discomfort.  While  he  sat  reflecting  a  moment 
over  the  ease  with  which  he  was  doing  strange  and 
glittering  miracles,  a  happy  thought  shot  into  his 
mind :  why  not  make  his  mother  Duchess  of  Offal 
Court  and  give  her  an  estate?  But  a  sorrowful 
thought  swept  it  instantly  away ;  he  was  only  a  king 
in  name,  these  grave  veterans  and  great  nobles  were 
his  masters ;  to  them  his  mother  was  only  the  crea 
ture  of  a  diseased  mind ;  they  would  simply  listen  to 
his  project  with  unbelieving  ears,  then  send  for  the 
doctor. 

The  dull  work  went  tediously  on.  Petitions  were 
read,  and  proclamations,  patents,  and  all  manner  of 
wordy,  repetitious,  and  wearisome  papers  relating  to 
the  public  business ;  and  at  last  Tom  sighed  pathetic 
ally  and  murmured  to  himself,  "  In  what  have  I 
offended,  that  the  good  God  should  take  me  away 
from  the  fields  and  the  free  air  and  the  sunshine,  to 
shut  me  up  here  and  make  me  a  king  and  afflict  me 
so?"  Then  his  poor  muddled  head  nodded  a  while, 
and  presently  dropped  to  his  shoulder;  and  the 
business  of  the  empire  came  to  a  standstill  for  want 
of  that  august  factor,  the  ratifying  power.  Silence 
ensued  around  the  slumbering  child,  and  the  sages 
of  the  realm  ceased  from  their  deliberations. 

During  the  forenoon,  Tom  had  an  enjoyable  hour, 
by  permission  of  his  keepers,  Hertford  and  St. 
John,  with  the  Lady  Elizabeth  and  the  little  Lady 
Jane  Grey ;  though  the  spirits  of  the  princesses  were 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  127 

rather  subdued  by  the  mighty  stroke  that  had  fallen 
upon  the  royal  house ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  visit 
his  "  elder  sister  "—afterward  the  "  Bloody  Mary  " 
of  history  —  chilled  him  with  a  solemn  interview 
which  had  but  one  merit  in  his  eyes,  its  brevity. 
He  had  a  few  moments  to  himself,  and  then  a  slim 
lad  of  about  twelve  years  of  age  was  admitted  to  his 
presence,  whose  clothing,  except  his  snowy  ruff  and 
the  laces  about  his  wrists,  was  of  black, —  doublet, 
hose  and  all.  He  bore  no  badge  of  mourning  but  a 
knot  of  purple  ribbon  on  his  shoulder.  He  ad 
vanced  hesitatingly,  with  head  bowed  and  bare,  and 
dropped  upon  one  knee  in  front  of  Tom.  Tom  sat 
still  and  contemplated  him  soberly  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  said : 

"Rise,  lad.    Whoartthou?  What  wouldst  have?" 

The  boy  rose,  and  stood  at  graceful  ease,  but  with 
an  aspect  of  concern  in  his  face.  He  said : 

"  Of  a  surety  thou  must  remember  me,  my  lord. 
I  am  thy  whipping-boy." 

"  My  whipping-\)<yy1" 

'The    same,    your    grace.     I    am    Humphrey  — 
Humphrey  Marlow." 

Tom  perceived  that  here  was  some  one  whom  his 
keepers  ought  to  have  posted  him  about.  The 
situation  was  delicate.  What  should  he  do?  —  pre 
tend  he  knew  this  lad,  and  then  betray,  by  his  every 
utterance,  that  he  had  never  heard  of  him  before? 
No,  that  would  not  do.  An  idea  came  to  his  relief: 
accidents  like  this  might  be  likely  to  happen  with 


128  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

some  frequency,  now  that  business  urgencies  would 
often  call  Hertford  and  St.  John  from  his  side,  they 
being  members  of  the  council  of  executors ;  there 
fore  perhaps  it  would  be  well  to  strike  out  a  plan 
himself  to  meet  the  requirements  of  such  emergen 
cies.  Yes,  that  would  be  a  wise  course  —  he  would 
practice  on  this  boy,  and  see  what  sort  of  success  he 
might  achieve.  So  he  stroked  his  brow,  perplexedly, 
a  moment  or  two,  and  presently  said : 

"  Now  I  seem  to  remember  thee  somewhat  —  but 
my  wit  is  clogged  and  dim  with  suffering — " 

"Alack,  my  poor  master !"  ejaculated  the  whip 
ping-boy,  with  feeling;  adding,  to  himself,  "In 
truth  'tis  as  they  said  —  his  mind  is  gone  —  alas, 
poor  soul !  But  misfortune  catch  me,  how  am  I 
forgetting !  they  said  one  must  not  seem  to  observe 
that  aught  is  wrong  with  him." 

1  'Tis  strange  how  my  memory  doth  wanton  with 
me  these  days,"  said  Tom.  "  But  mind  it  not  —  I 
mend  apace  —  a  little  clew  doth  often  serve  to  bring 
me  back  again  the  things  and  names  which  had 
escaped  me.  [And  not  they,  only,  forsooth,  but 
e'en  such  as  I  ne'er  heard  before  —  as  this  lad  shall 
see.]  Give  thy  business  speech." 

"  'Tis  matter  of  small  weight,  my  liege,  yet  will  I 
touch  upon  it,  an*  it  please  your  grace.  Two  days 
gone  by,  when  your  majesty  faulted  thrice  in  your 
Greek  —  in  the  morning  lessons, —  dost  remember 
it?" 

"Y-e-s  —  methinks  I  do.     [It  is  not  much  of  a 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  129 

lie  —  an'  I  had  meddled  with  the  Greek  at  all,  I  had 
not  faulted  simply  thrice,  but  forty  times.]  Yes,  I 
do  recall  it  now — go  on." 

— "  The  master,  being  wroth  with  what  he  termed 
such  slovenly  and  doltish  work,  did  promise  that  he 
would  soundly  whip  me  for  it  —  and — " 

"  Whip  thee  /"  said  Tom,  astonished  out  of  his 
presence  of  mind.  "Why  should  he  whip  thee  for 
faults  of  mine?" 

"Ah,  your  grace  forgetteth  again.  He  always 
scourgeth  me,  when  thou  dost  fail  in  thy  lessons." 

'True,  true  —  I  had  forgot.  Thou  teachest  me 
in  private  —  then  if  I  fail,  he  argueth  that  thy  office 
was  lamely  done,  and — " 

"  Oh,    my  liege,  what  words  are  these?     I,  the 

humblest  of  thy  servants,  presume  to  teach  thee  ?" 

'  Then  where  is  thy  blame?     What  riddle  is  this? 

Am  I  in  truth  gone  mad,  or  is  it  thou?     Explain  — 

speak  out." 

"But,  good  your  majesty,  there's  nought  that 
needeth  simplifying.  None  may  visit  the  sacred 
person  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  with  blows ;  where 
fore  when  he  faulteth,  'tis  I  that  take  them;  and 
meet  it  is  and  right,  for  that  it  is  mine  office  and  my 
livelihood.* 

Tom  stared  at  the  tranquil  boy,  observing  to  him 
self,  "  Lo,  it  is  a  wonderful  thing, —  a  most  strange 
and  curious  trade ;  I  marvel  they  have  not  hired  a 
boy  to  take  my  combings  and  my  dressings  for  me 

*  See  Note  8,  at  end  of  volume. 
9 


130  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

—  would  heaven  they  would  !  — an'  they  will  do  this 
thing,  I  will  take  my  lashings  in  mine  own  person, 
giving  God  thanks  for  the  change."  Then  he  said 
aloud : 

"  And  hast  thou  been  beaten,  poor  friend,  accord 
ing  to  the  promise?" 

"  No,  good  your  majesty,  my  punishment  was 
appointed  for  this  day,  and  peradventure  it  may  be 
annulled,  as  unbefitting  the  season  of  mourning 
that  is  come  upon  us;  I  know  not,  and  so  have 
made  bold  to  come  hither  and  remind  your  grace 
about  your  gracious  promise  to  intercede  in  my 
behalf—" 

11  With  the  master?    To  save  thee  thy  whipping?" 

"  Ah,  thou  dost  remember!" 

"  My  memory  mendeth,  thou  seest.  Set  thy 
mind  at  ease  —  thy  back  shall  go  unscathed  —  I  will 
see  to  it." 

"Oh,  thanks,  my  good  lord!"  cried  the  boy, 
dropping  upon  his  knee  again.  "  Mayhap  I  have 
ventured  far  enow ;  and  yet  " 

Seeing  Master  Humphrey  hesitate,  Tom  encour 
aged  him  to  go  on,  saying  he  was  "  in  the  granting 
mood." 

"Then  will  I  speak  it  out,  for  it  lieth  near  my 
heart.  Sith  thou  are  no  more  Prince  of  Wales  but 
king,  thou  canst  order  matters  as  thou  wilt,  with 
none  to  say  thee  nay ;  wherefore  it  is  not  in  reason 
that  thou  wilt  longer  vex  thyself  with  dreary  studies, 
but  wilt  burn  thy  books  and  turn  thy  mind  to  things 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  131 

less  irksome.  Then  am  I  ruined,  and  mine  orphan 
sisters  with  me !" 

"  Ruined?     Prithee,  how?" 

"  My  back  is  my  bread,  O  my  gracious  liege!  if 
it  go  idle,  I  starve.  An'  thou  cease  from  study, 
mine  office  is  gone,  thou'lt  need  no  whipping-boy. 
Do  not  turn  me  away!'* 

Tom  was  touched  with  this  pathetic  distress.  He 
said,  with  a  right  royal  burst  of  generosity: 

"Discomfort  thyself  no  further,  lad.  Thine 
office  shall  be  permanent  in  thee  and  thy  line,  for 
ever."  Then  he  struck  the  boy  a  light  blow  on  the 
shoulder  with  the  flat  of  his  sword,  exclaiming, 
'*  Rise,  Humphrey  Marlow,  Hereditary  Grand  Whip- 
ping-Boy  to  the  royal  house  of  England  !  Banish 
sorrow — I  will  betake  me  to  my  books  again,  and 
study  so  ill  that  they  must  in  justice  treble  thy  wage, 
so  mightily  shall  the  business  of  thine  office  be  aug 
mented." 

The  grateful  Humphrey  responded  fervidly: 

11  Thanks,  oh,  most  noble  master,  this  princely 
lavishness  doth  far  surpass  my  most  distempered 
dreams  of  fortune.  Now  shall  I  be  happy  all  my 
days,  and  all  the  house  of  Marlow  after  me." 

Tom  had  wit  enough  to  perceive  that  here  was  a 
lad  who  could  be  useful  to  him.  He  encouraged 
Humphrey  to  talk,  and  he  was  nothing  loath.  He 
was  delighted  to  believe  that  he  was  helping  in 
Tom's  "cure";  for  always,  as  soon  as  he  had 
finished  calling  back  to  Tom's  diseased  mind  the 


132  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

various  particulars  of  his  experiences  and  adventures 
in  the  royal  schoolroom  and  elsewhere  about  the 
palace,  he  noticed  that  Tom  was  then  able  to  "  re 
call"  the  circumstances  quite  clearly.  At  the  end 
of  an  hour  Tom  found  himself  well  freighted  with 
very  valuable  information  concerning  personages  and 
matters  pertaining  to  the  court;  so  he  resolved  to 
draw  instruction  from  this  source  daily ;  and  to  this 
end  he  would  give  order  to  admit  Humphrey  to  the 
royal  closet  whenever  he  might  come,  provided  the 
majesty  of  England  was  not  engaged  with  other 
people. 

Humphrey  had  hardly  been  dismissed  when  my 
Lord  Hertford  arrived  with  more  trouble  for  Tom. 
He  said  that  the  lords  of  the  Council,  fearing  that 
some  overwrought  report  of  the  king's  damaged 
health  might  have  leaked  out  and  got  abroad,  they 
deemed  it  wise  and  best  that  his  majesty  should 
begin  to  dine  in  public  after  a  day  or  two  —  his 
wholesome  complexion  and  vigorous  step,  assisted 
by  a  carefully  guarded  repose  of  manner  and  ease 
and  grace  of  demeanor,  would  more  surely  quiet  the 
general  pulse  —  in  case  any  evil  rumors  had  gone 
about  —  than  any  other  scheme  that  could  be  devised. 

Then  the  earl  proceeded,  very  delicately,  to  in 
struct  Tom  as  to  the  observances  proper  to  the  stately 
occasion,  under  the  rather  thin  disguise  of  *'  remind 
ing"  him  concerning  things  already  known  to  him; 
but  to  his  vast  gratification  it  turned  out  that  Tom 
needed  very  little  help  in  this  line  —  he  had  been 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  133 

making  use  of  Humphrey  in  that  direction,  for 
Humphrey  had  mentioned  that  within  a  few  days  he 
was  to  begin  to  dine  in  public;  having  gathered  it 
from  the  swift-winged  gossip  of  the  court.  Tom 
kept  these  facts  to  himself,  however. 

Seeing  the  royal  memory  so  improved,  the  earl 
ventured  to  apply  a  few  tests  to  it,  in  an  apparently 
casual  way,  to  find  out  how  far  its  amendment  had 
progressed.  The  results  were  happy,  here  and  there, 
in  spots  —  spots  where  Humphrey's  tracks  remained 
—  and,  on  the  whole,  my  lord  was  greatly  pleased 
and  encouraged.  So  encouraged  was  he,  indeed, 
that  he  spoke  up  and  said  in  a  quite  hopeful  voice : 

4 '  Now  am  I  persuaded  that  if  your  majesty  will 
but  tax  your  memory  yet  a  little  further,  it  will  re 
solve  the  puzzle  of  the  Great  Seal  —  a  loss  which 
was  of  moment  yesterday,  although  of  none  to-day, 
since  its  term  of  service  ended  with  our  late  lord's 
life.  May  it  please  your  grace  to  make  the  trial?" 

Tom  was  at  sea  —  a  Great  Seal  was  a  something 
which  he  was  totally  unacquainted  with.  After  a 
moment's  hesitation  he  looked  up  innocently  and 
asked : 

44  What  was  it  like,  my  Lord?" 

The  earl  started,  almost  imperceptibly,  muttering 
to  himself,  "Alack,  his  wits  are  flown  again!  —  it 
was  ill  wisdom  to  lead  him  on  to  strain  them  " — 
then  he  deftly  turned  the  talk  to  other  matters,  with 
the  purpose  of  sweeping  the  unlucky  Seal  out  of 
Tom's  thoughts  —  a  purpose  which  easily  succeeded. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

TOM  AS  KING 

THE  next  day  the  foreign  ambassadors  came,  with 
their  gorgeous  trains;  and  Tom,  throned  in 
awful  state,  received  them.  The  splendors  of  the 
scene  delighted  his  eye  and  fired  his  imagination  at 
first,  but  the  audience  was  long  and  dreary,  and  so 
were  most  of  the  addresses  —  wherefore,  what  began 
as  a  pleasure,  grew  into  weariness  and  homesickness 
by  and  by.  Tom  said  the  words  which  Hertford 
put  into  his  mouth  from  time  to  time,  and  tried 
hard  to  acquit  himself  satisfactorily,  but  he  was  too 
new  to  such  things,  and  too  ill  at  ease  to  accomplish 
more  than  a  tolerable  success.  He  looked  suffi 
ciently  like  a  king,  but  he  was  ill  able  to  feel  like 
one.  He  was  cordially  glad  when  the  ceremony  was 
ended. 

The  larger  part  of  his  day  was  "  wasted  " — as  he 
termed  it,  in  his  own  mind  —  in  labors  pertaining  to 
his  royal  office.  Even  the  two  hours  devoted  to 
certain  princely  pastimes  and  recreations  were  rather 
a  burden  to  him  than  otherwise,  they  were  so  fet 
tered  by  restrictions  and  ceremonious  observances. 

(i34) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  13  5 

However,  he  had  a  private  hour  with  his  whipping- 
boy  which  he  counted  clear  gain,  since  he  got  both 
entertainment  and  needful  information  out  of  it. 

The  third  day  of  Tom  Canty 's  kingship  came  and 
went  much  as  the  others  had  done,  but  there  was  a 
lifting  of  his  cloud  in  one  way  —  he  felt  less  uncom 
fortable  than  at  first ;  he  was  getting  a  little  used  to 
his  circumstances  and  surroundings ;  his  chains  still 
galled,  but  not  all  the  time;  he  found  that  the 
presence  and  homage  of  the  great  afflicted  and  em 
barrassed  him  less  and  less  sharply  with  every  hour 
that  drifted  over  his  head. 

But  for  one  single  dread,  he  could  have  seen  the 
fourth  day  approach  without  serious  distress  —  the 
dining  in  public ;  it  was  to  begin  that  day.  There 
were  greater  matters  in  the  programme  —  for  on  that 
day  he  would  have  to  preside  at  a  Council  which 
would  take  his  views  and  commands  concerning  the 
policy  to  be  pursued  toward  various  foreign  nations 
scattered  far  and  near  over  the  great  globe ;  on  that 
day,  too,  Hertford  would  be  formally  chosen  to  the 
grand  office  of  Lord  Protector ;  other  things  of  note 
were  appointed  for  that  fourth  day  also,  but  to  Tom 
they  were  all  insignificant  compared  with  the  ordeal 
of  dining  all  by  himself  with  a  multitude  of  curious 
eyes  fastened  upon  him  and  a  multitude  of  mouths 
whispering  comments  upon  his  performance, —  and 
upon  his  mistakes,  if  he  should  be  so  unlucky  as  to 
make  any. 

Still,  nothing  could  stop  that  fourth  day,  and  so 


136  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

it  came.  It  found  poor  Tom  low-spirited  and  ab 
sent-minded,  and  this  mood  continued;  he  could  not 
shake  it  off.  The  ordinary  duties  of  the  morning 
dragged  upon  his  hands,  and  wearied  him.  Once 
more  he  felt  the  sense  of  captivity  heavy  upon  him. 

Late  in  the  forenoon  he  was  in  a  large  audience 
chamber,  conversing  with  the  Earl  of  Hertford  and 
duly  awaiting  the  striking  of  the  hour  appointed  for 
a  visit  of  ceremony  from  a  considerable  number  of 
great  officials  and  courtiers. 

After  a  little  while  Tom,  who  had  wandered  to  a 
window  and  become  interested  in  the  life  and  move 
ment  of  the  great  highway  beyond  the  palace  gates 

—  and   not  idly  interested,  but  longing  with  all  his 
heart  to  take  part  in  person  in  its  stir  and  freedom 

—  saw  the  van  of  a   hooting   and   shouting  mob  of 
disorderly  men,  women,  and  children  of   the   lowest 
and  poorest  degree  approaching  from  up  the  road. 

"  I  would  I  knew  what  'tis  about!"  he  exclaimed, 
with  all  a  boy's  curiosity  in  such  happenings. 

"Thou  art  the  king!"  solemnly  responded  the 
earl,  with  a  reverence.  "  Have  I  your  grace's  leave 
to  act?" 

*:  Oh,  blithely,  yes  !  Oh,  gladly,  yes  !"  exclaimed 
Tom,  excitedly,  adding  to  himself  with  a  lively  sense 
of  satisfaction,  "  In  truth,  being  a  king  is  not  all 
dreariness  —  it  hath  its  compensations  and  con 
veniences." 

The  earl  called  a  page,  and  sent  him  to  the  cap 
tain  of  the  guard  with  the  order : 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  137 

'.'  Let  the  mob  be  halted,  and  inquiry  made  con 
cerning  the  occasion  of  its  movement.  By  the 
king's  command  !" 

A  few  seconds  later  a  long  rank  of  the  royal 
guards,  cased  in  flashing  steel,  filed  out  at  the  gates 
and  formed  across  the  highway  in  front  of  the 
multitude.  A  messenger  returned,  to  report  that 
the  crowd  were  following  a  man,  a  woman,  and  a 
young  girl  to  execution  for  crimes  committed  against 
the  peace  and  dignity  of  the  realm. 

Death  —  and  a  violent  death  —  for  these  poor  un 
fortunates  !  The  thought  wrung  Tom's  heartstrings. 
The  spirit  of  compassion  took  control  of  him,  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  other  considerations ;  he  never 
thought  of  the  offended  laws,  or  of  the  grief  or  loss 
which  these  three  criminals  had  inflicted  upon  their 
victims,  he  could  think  of  nothing  but  the  scaffold 
and  the  grisly  fate  hanging  over  the  heads  of  the 
condemned.  His  concern  made  him  even  forget, 
for  the  moment,  that  he  was  but  the  false  shadow  of 
a  king,  not  the  substance ;  and  before  he  knew  it  he 
had  blurted  out  the  command : 

"  Bring  them  here  !" 

Then  he  blushed  scarlet,  and  a  sort  of  apology 
sprung  to  his  lips ;  but  observing  that  his  order  had 
wrought  no  sort  of  surprise  in  the  earl  or  the  waiting 
page,  he  suppressed  the  words  he  was  about  to 
utter.  The  page,  in  the  most  matter-of-course  way, 
made  a  profound  obeisance  and  retired  backward 
out  of  the  room  to  deliver  the  command.  Tom 


138  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

experienced  a  glow  of  pride  and  a  renewed  sense  of 
the  compensating  advantages  of  the  kingly  office. 
He  said  to  himself,  '  *  Truly  it  is  like  what  I  used  to 
feel  when  I  read  the  old  priest's  tales,  and  did  im 
agine  mine  own  self  a  prince,  giving  law  and  com 
mand  to  all,  saying,  *  Do  this,  do  that,'  while  none 
durst  offer  let  or  hindrance  to  my  will." 

Now  the  doors  swung  open;  one  high-sounding 
title  after  another  was  announced,  the  personages 
owning  them  followed,  and  the  place  was  quickly 
half  filled  with  noble  folk  and  finery.  But  Tom  was 
hardly  conscious  of  the  presence  of  these  people,  so 
wrought  up  was  he  and  so  intensely  absorbed  in 
that  other  and  more  interesting  matter.  He  seated 
himself,  absently,  in  his  chair  of  state,  and  turned 
his  eyes  upon  the  door  with  manifestations  of  im 
patient  expectancy;  seeing  which,  the  company  for 
bore  to  trouble  him,  and  fell  to  chatting  a  mixture 
of  public  business  and  court  gossip  one  with 
another. 

In  a  little  while  the  measured  tread  of  military 
men  was  heard  approaching,  and  the  culprits  entered 
the  presence  in  charge  of  an  under-sheriff  and  es 
corted  by  a  detail  of  the  king's  guard.  The  civil 
officer  knelt  before  Tom,  then  stood  aside;  the  three 
doomed  persons  knelt  also,  and  remained  so;  the 
guard  took  position  behind  Tom's  chair.  Tom 
scanned  the  prisoners  curiously.  Something  about 
the  dress  or  appearance  of  the  man  had  stirred  a 
vague  memory  in  him,  **  Methinks  I  have  seen  this 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  139 

man  ere  now but  the  when  or  the  where  fail 

me" — such  was  Tom's  thought.  Just  then  the  man 
glanced  quickly  up,  and  quickly  dropped  his  face 
again,  not  being  able  to  endure  the  awful  port  of 
sovereignty;  but  the  one  full  glimpse  of  the  face, 
which  Tom  got,  was  sufficient.  He  said  to  himself: 
1 '  Now  is  the  matter  clear ;  this  is  the  stranger  that 
plucked  Giles  Witt  out  of  the  Thames,  and  saved 
his  life  that  windy,  bitter  first  day  of  the  New  Year 
— -a  brave,  good  deed  —  pity  he  hath  been  doing 

baser  ones  and   got  himself  in  this  sad  case I 

have  not  forgot  the  day,  neither  the  hour;  by  reason 
that  an  hour  after,  upon  the  stroke  of  eleven,  I  did 
get  a  hiding  by  the  hand  of  Gammer  Canty  which 
was  of  so  goodly  and  admired  severity  that  all  that 
went  before  or  followed  after  it  were  but  fondlings 
and  caresses  by  comparison." 

Tom  now  ordered  that  the  woman  and  the  girl  be 
removed  from  the  presence  for  a  little  time ;  then 
addressed  himself  to  the  under-sheriff,  saying: 

"  Good  sir,  what  is  this  man's  offense?" 

The  officer  knelt,  and  answered : 

11  So  please  your  majesty,  he  hath  taken  the  life 
of  a  subject  by  poison." 

Tom's  compassion  for  the  prisoner,  and  admira 
tion  of  him  as  the  daring  rescuer  of  a  drowning  boy, 
experienced  a  most  damaging  shock. 

'  The  thing  was  proven  upon  him?"   he  asked. 

"  Most  clearly,  sire." 

Tom  sighed,  and  said: 


140  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

*  Take  him  away  —  he  hath  earned  his  death. 
'Tis  a  pity,  for  he  was  a  brave  heart — na  —  na,  I 
mean  he  hath  the  look  of  it ! " 

The  prisoner  clasped  his  hands  together  with  sud 
den  energy,  and  wrung  them  despairingly,  at  the 
same  time  appealing  imploringly  to  the  "king"  in 
broken  and  terrified  phrases : 

"  Oh,  my  lord  the  king,  an'  thou  canst  pity  the 
lost,  have  pity  upon  me!  I  am  innocent — neither 
hath  that  wherewith  I  am  charged  been  more  than 
but  lamely  proved  —  yet  I  speak  not  of  that ;  the 
judgment  is  gone  forth  against  me  and  may  not 
suffer  alteration ;  yet  in  mine  extremity  I  beg  a 
boon,  for  my  doom  is  more  than  I  can  bear.  A 
grace,  a  grace,  my  lord  the  king!  in  thy  royal  com 
passion  grant  my  prayer  —  give  commandment  that 
I  be  hanged!" 

Tom  was  amazed.  This  was  not  the  outcome  he 
had  looked  for. 

"  Odds  my  life,  a  strange  boon  !  Was  it  not  the 
fate  intended  thee?" 

"  Oh,  good  my  liege,  not  so  !  It  is  ordered  that 
I  be  boiled  alive  /' ' 

The  hideous  surprise  of  these  words  almost  made 
Tom  spring  from  his  chair.  As  soon  as  he  could 
recover  his  wits  he  cried  out : 

"Have  thy  wish,  poor  soul!  an'  thou  had  pois 
oned  a  hundred  men  thou  shouldst  not  suffer  so 
miserable  a  death." 

The  prisoner  bowed   his  face  to  the  ground  and 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  141 

burst  into  passionate  expressions  of  gratitude  —  end 
ing  with: 

"  If  ever  thou  shouldst  know  misfortune  —  which 
God  forbid  !  —  may  thy  goodness  to  me  this  day  be 
remembered  and  requited!" 

Tom  turned  to  the  Earl  of  Hertford,  and  said : 

"  My  lord,  is  it  believable  that  there  was  warrant 
for  this  man's  ferocious  doom?" 

"It  is  the  law,  your  grace  —  for  poisoners.  In 
Germany  coiners  be  boiled  to  death  in  oil — not  cast 
in  of  a  sudden,  but  by  a  rope  let  down  into  the  oil 
by  degrees,  and  slowly;  first  the  feet,  then  the  legs, 
then—" 

"  Oh,  prithee,  no  more,  my  lord,  I  cannot  bear 
it!"  cried  Tom,  covering  his  eyes  with  his  hands  to 
shut  out  the  picture.  "  I  beseech  your  good  lord 
ship  that  order  be  taken  to  change  this  law  —  oh, 
let  no  more  poor  creatures  be  visited  with  its  tor 
tures." 

The  earl's  face  showed  profound  gratification,  for 
he  was  a  man  of  merciful  and  generous  impulses  —  a 
thing  not  very  common  with  his  class  in  that  fierce 
age.  He  said : 

4  These  your  grace's  noble  words  have  sealed  its 
doom.  History  will  remember  it  to  the  honor  of 
your  royal  house." 

The  under-sheriff  was  about  to  remove  his 
prisoner;  Tom  gave  him  a  sign  to  wait;  then  he 
said : 

44  Good  sir,  I  would  look  into  this  matter  further. 

10 


142  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

The  man  has  said  his  deed  was  but  lamely  proved. 
Tell  me  what  thou  knowest." 

"If  the  king's  grace  please,  it  did  appear  upon 
the  trial,  that  this  man  entered  into  a  house  in  the 
hamlet  of  Islington  where  one  lay  sick  —  three  wit 
nesses  say  it  was  at  ten  of  the  clock  in  the  morning 
and  two  say  it  was  some  minutes  later  —  the  sick 
man  being  alone  at  the  time,  and  sleeping  —  and 
presently  the  man  came  forth  again,  and  went  his 
way.  The  sick  man  died  within  the  hour,  being 
torn  with  spasm  and  retchings." 

"Did  any  see  the  poison  given?  Was  poison 
found?" 

11  Marry,  no,  my  liege." 

'  Then  how  doth  one  know  there  was  poison 
given  at  all?" 

"  Please  your  majesty,  the  doctors  testified  that 
none  die  with  such  symptoms  but  by  poison." 

Weighty  evidence,  this  —  in  that  simple  age.  Tom 
recognized  its  formidable  nature,  and  said : 

4  The  doctor  knoweth  his  trade  —  belike  they 
were  right.  The  matter  hath  an  ill  look  for  this 
poor  man." 

"Yet  was  not  this  all,  your  majesty;  there  is 
more  and  worse.  Many  testified  that  a  witch,  since 
gone  from  the  village,  none  know  whither,  did  fore 
tell,  and  speak  it  privately  in  their  ears,  that  the 
sick  man  would  die  by  poison  —  and  more,  that  a 
stranger  would  give  it  —  a  stranger  with  brown  hair 
and  clothed  in  a  worn  and  common  garb ;  and  surely 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  143 

this  prisoner  doth  answer  woundily  to  the  bill.  Please, 
your  majesty,  to  give  the  circumstance  that  solemn 
weight  which  is  its  due,  seeing  it  was  foretold." 

This  was  an  argument  of  tremendous  force,  in 
that  superstitious  day.  Tom  felt  that  the  thing  was 
settled ;  if  evidence  was  worth  anything,  this  poor 
fellow's  guilt  was  proved.  Still  he  offered  the  pris 
oner  a  chance,  saying: 

"  If  thou  canst  say  aught  in  thy  behalf,  speak." 

"Nought  that  will  avail,  my  king.  I  am  inno 
cent,  yet  cannot  I  make  it  appear.  I  have  no 
friends,  else  might  I  show  that  I  was  not  in  Islington 
that  day ;  so  also  might  I  show  that  at  that  hour 
they  name  I  was  above  a  league  away,  seeing  I  was 
at  Wapping  Old  Stairs;  yea  more,  my  king,  for  I 
could  show,  that  while  they  say  I  was  taking  life,  I 
was  saving  it.  A  drowning  boy — " 

'Peace!     Sheriff,    name  the   day  the  deed    was 
done!" 

"At  ten  in  the  morning,  or  some  minutes  later, 
the  first  day  of  the  new  year,  most  illustrious — " 

"Let  the  prisoner  go  free  —  it  is  the  king's 
will!" 

Another  blush  followed  this  unregal  outburst,  and 
he  covered  his  indecorum  as  well  as  he  could  by 
adding: 

"  It  enrageth  me  that  a  man  should  be  hanged 
upon  such  idle,  hare-brained  evidence!" 

A  low  buzz  of  admiration  swept  through  the 
assemblage.  It  was  not  admiration  of  the  decree 


144  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

that  had  been  delivered  by  Tom,  for  the  propriety 
or  expediency  of  pardoning  a  convicted  poisoner 
was  a  thing  which  few  there  would  have  felt  justified 
in  either  admitting  or  admiring — no,  the  admiration 
was  for  the  intelligence  and  spirit  which  Tom  had 
displayed.  Some  of  the  low-voiced  remarks  were 
to  this  effect: 

'  This  is  no  mad  king  —  he  hath  his  wits  sound." 

11  How  sanely  he  put  his  questions  —  how  like  his 
former  natural  self  was  this  abrupt,  imperious  dis 
posal  of  the  matter!" 

"  God  be  thanked  his  infirmity  is  spent!  This  is 
no  weakling,  but  a  king.  He  hath  borne  himself 
like  to  his  own  father." 

The  air  being  filled  with  applause,  Tom's  ear 
necessarily  caught  a  little  of  it.  The  effect  which 
this  had  upon  him  was  to  put  him  greatly  at  his 
ease,  and  also  to  charge  his  system  with  very  gratify 
ing  sensations. 

However,  his  juvenile  curiosity  soon  rose  superior 
to  these  pleasant  thoughts  and  feelings;  he  was 
eager  to  know  what  sort  of  deadly  mischief  the 
woman  and  the  little  girl  could  have  been  about;  so, 
by  his  command  the  two  terrified  and  sobbing  crea 
tures  were  brought  before  him. 

'What  is  it  that  these  have  done?"  he  inquired 
of  the  sheriff. 

"  Please,  your  majesty,  a  black  crime  is  charged 
upon  them,  and  clearly  proven  ;  wherefore  the  judges 
have  decreed,  according  to  the  law,  that  they  be 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  145 

hanged.  They  sold  themselves  to  the  devil  —  such 
is  their  crime." 

Tom  shuddered.  He  had  been  taught  to  abhor 
people  who  did  this  wicked  thing.  Still,  he  was  not 
going  to  deny  himself  the  pleasure  of  feeding  his 
curiosity,  for  all  that ;  so  he  asked : 

"  Where  was  this  done?  — and  when?" 

"On  a  midnight,  in  December  —  in  a  ruined 
church,  your  majesty." 

Tom  shuddered  again. 

"  Who  was  there  present?" 

"  Only  these  two,  your  grace  —  and  that  other." 

11  Have  these  confessed?" 

"  Nay,  not  so,  sire  —  they  do  deny  it." 

"Then,  prithee,  how  was  it  known?" 

"  Certain  witnesses  did  see  them  wending  thither, 
good  your  majesty;  this  bred  the  suspicion,  and 
dire  effects  have  since  confirmed  and  justified  it.  In 
particular,  it  is  in  evidence  that  through  the  wicked 
power  so  obtained,  they  did  invoke  and  bring  about 
a  storm  that  wasted  all  the  region  round  about. 
Above  forty  witnesses  have  proved  the  storm ;  and 
sooth  one  might  have  had  a  thousand,  for  all  had 
reason  to  remember  it,  sith  all  had  suffered  by  it." 

"  Certes  this  is  a  serious  matter."  Tom  turned 
this  dark  piece  of  scoundrelism  over  in  his  mind  a 
while,  then  asked : 

"  Suffered  the  woman,  also,  by  the  storm?" 

Several  old  heads  among  the  assemblage  nodded 
their  recognition  of  the  wisdom  of  this  question. 
10 


146  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

The  sheriff,  however,  saw  nothing  consequential  in 
the  inquiry;  he  answered,  with  simple  directness: 

"  Indeed,  did  she,  your  majesty,  and  most  right 
eously,  as  all  aver.  Her  habitation  was  swept  away, 
and  herself  and  child  left  shelterless." 

' '  Methinks  the  power  to  do  herself  so  ill  a  turn 
was  dearly  bought.  She  had  been  cheated,  had  she 
paid  but  a  farthing  for  it;  that  she  paid  her  soul, 
and  her  child's,  argueth  that  she  is  mad;  if  she  is 
mad  she  knoweth  not  what  she  doth,  therefore 
sinneth  not." 

The  elderly  heads  nodded  recognition  of  Tom's 
wisdom  once  more,  and  one  individual  murmured, 
"  An'  the  king  be  mad  himself,  according  to  report, 
then  is  it  a  madness  of  a  sort  that  would  improve 
the  sanity  of  some  I  wot  of,  if  by  the  gentle  provi 
dence  of  God  they  could  but  catch  it." 

"What  age  hath  the  child?"   asked  Tom. 

11  Nine  years,  please  your  majesty." 

' '  By  the  law  of  England  may  a  child  enter  into 
covenant  and  sell  itself,  my  lord?"  asked  Tom, 
turning  to  a  learned  judge. 

"The  law  doth  not  permit  a  child  to  make  or 
meddle  in  any  weighty  matter,  good  my  liege,  hold 
ing  that  its  callow  wit  unfitteth  it  to  cope  with  the 
riper  wit  and  evil  schemings  of  them  that  are  its 
elders.  The  devil  may  buy  a  child,  if  he  so  choose, 
and  the  child  agree  thereto,  but  not  an  Englishman 
—  in  this  latter  case  the  contract  would  be  null  and 
void." 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  147 

11  It  seemeth  a  rude  unchristian  thing,  and  ill  con 
trived,  that  English  law  denieth  privileges  to  English 
men,  to  waste  them  on  the  devil!"  cried  Tom,  with 
honest  heat. 

This  novel  view  of  the  matter  excited  many  smiles, 
and  was  stored  away  in  many  heads  to  be  repeated 
about  the  court  as  evidence  of  Tom's  originality  as 
well  as  progress  toward  mental  health. 

The  elder  culprit  had  ceased  from  sobbing,  and 
was  hanging  upon  Tom's  words  with  an  excited 
interest  and  a  growing  hope.  Tom  noticed  this, 
and  it  strongly  inclined  his  sympathies  toward  her 
in  her  perilous  and  unfriended  situation.  Presently 
he  asked : 

44  How  wrought  they,  to  bring  the  storm?" 

4  *  By  pulling'  off  their  stockings,  sire. ' ' 

This  astonished  Tom,  and  also  fired  his  curiosity 
to  fever  heat.  He  said,  eagerly: 

"It  is  wonderful!  Hath  it  always  this  dread 
effect?" 

44  Always,  my  liege  —  at  least  if  the  woman  desire 
it,  and  utter  the  needful  words,  either  in  her  mind 
or  with  her  tongue." 

Tom  turned  to  the  woman,  and  said  with  impetu 
ous  zeal: 

14  Exert  thy  power  —  I  would  see  a  storm  !" 

There  was  a  sudden  paling  of  cheeks  in  the  super 
stitious   assemblage,    and    a   general,    though   unex 
pressed,  desire  to  get  out  of  the  place  —  all  of  which 
was  lost  upon  Tom,  who  was  dead  to  everything  but 
j 


148  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

the  proposed  cataclysm.  Seeing  a  puzzled  and 
astonished  look  in  the  woman's  face,  he  added,  ex 
citedly  : 

"  Never  fear  —  thou  shalt  be  blameless.  More  — 
thou  shalt  go  free  —  none  shall  touch  thee.  Exert 
thy  power." 

"O,  my  lord  the  king,  I  have  it  not — I  have 
been  falsely  accused." 

'Thy  fears  stay  thee.  Be  of  good  heart,  thou 
shalt  suffer  no  harm.  Make  a  storm  —  it  mattereth 
not  how  small  a  one  —  I  require  nought  great  or 
harmful,  but  indeed  prefer  the  opposite  —  do  this 
and  thy  life  is  spared  —  thou  shalt  go  out  free,  with 
thy  child,  bearing  the  king's  pardon,  and  safe  from 
hurt  or  malice  from  any  in  the  realm/' 

The  woman  prostrated  herself,  and  protested,  with 
tears,  that  she  had  no  power  to  do  the  miracle,  else 
she  would  gladly  win  her  child's  life  alone,  and  be 
content  to  lose  her  own,  if  by  obedience  to  the 
king's  command  so  precious  a  grace  might  be  ac 
quired. 

Tom  urged  —  the  woman  still  adhered  to  her 
declarations.  Finally,  he  said  : 

"I  think  the  woman  hath  said  true.  An'  my 
mother  were  in  her  place  and  gifted  with  the  devil's 
functions,  she  had  not  stayed  a  moment  to  call  her 
storms  and  lay  the  whole  land  in  ruins,  if  the  saving 
of  my  forfeit  life  were  the  price  she  got !  It  is 
argument  that  other  mothers  are  made  in  like 
mould.  Thou  art  free,  good  wife  —  thou  and  thy 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  149 

child  —  for  I  do  think  thee  innocent.  Now  thou'st 
nought  to  fear,  being  pardoned  —  pull  off  thy  stock 
ings  !  —  an'  thou  canst  make  me  a  storm,  thou  shalt 
be  rich!" 

The  redeemed  creature  was  loud  in  her  gratitude, 
and  proceeded  to  obey,  while  Tom  looked  on  with 
eager  expectancy,  a  little  marred  by  apprehension ; 
the  courtiers  at  the  same  time  manifesting  decided 
discomfort  and  uneasiness.  The  woman  stripped 
her  own  feet  and  her  little  girl's  also,  and  plainly 
did  her  best  to  reward  the  king's  generosity  with  an 
earthquake,  but  it  was  all  a  failure  and  a  disap 
pointment.  Tom  sighed,  and  said: 

'  There,  good  soul,  trouble  thyself  no  further, 
thy  power  is  departed  out  of  thee.  Go  thy  way  in 
peace;  and  if  it  return  to  thee  at  any  time,  forget 
me  not,  but  fetch  me  a  storm."* 

*  See  Notes  to  Chapter  1 5  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE  STATE  DINNER 

THE  dinner  hour  drew  near  —  yet,  strangely 
enough,  the  thought  brought  but  slight  dis 
comfort  to  Tom,  and  hardly  any  terror.  The  morn 
ing's  experiences  had  wonderfully  built  up  his 
confidence ;  the  poor  little  ash-cat  was  already  more 
wonted  to  his  strange  garret,  after  four  days'  habit, 
than  a  mature  person  could  have  become  in  a  full 
month.  A  child's  facility  in  accommodating  itself 
to  circumstances  was  never  more  strikingly  illus 
trated. 

Let  us  privileged  ones  hurry  to  the  great  banquet 
ing  room  and  have  a  glance  at  matters  there  while 
Tom  is  being  made  ready  for  the  imposing  occa 
sion.  It  is  a  spacious  apartment,  with  gilded  pillars 
and  pilasters,  and  pictured  walls  and  ceilings.  At 
the  door  stand  tall  guards,  as  rigid  as  statues, 
dressed  in  rich  and  picturesque  costumes,  and  bear 
ing  halberds.  In  a  high  gallery  which  runs  all 
around  the  place  is  a  band  of  musicians  and  a 
packed  company  of  citizens  of  both  sexes,  in  bril 
liant  attire.  In  the  center  of  the  room,  upon  a 

(150) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  151 

raised  platform,  is  Tom's  table.  Now  let  the 
ancient  chronicler  speak : 

"A  gentleman  enters  the  room  bearing  a  rod, 
and  along  with  him  another  bearing  a  tablecloth, 
which,  after  they  have  both  kneeled  three  times  with 
the  utmost  veneration,  he  spreads  upon  the  table, 
and  after  kneeling  again  they  both  retire ;  then  come 
two  others,  one  with  the  rod  again,  the  other  with  a 
saltcellar,  a  plate,  and  bread ;  when  they  have 
kneeled  as  the  others  had  done,  and  placed  what 
was  brought  upon  the  table,  they  too  retire  with  the 
same  ceremonies  performed  by  the  first;  at  last 
come  two  nobles,  richly  clothed,  one  bearing  a 
tasting-knife,  who,  after  prostrating  themselves  in 
the  most  graceful  manner,  approach  and  rub  the 
table  with  bread  and  salt,  with  as  much  awe  as  if 
the  king  had  been  present."* 

So  end  the  solemn  preliminaries.  Now,  far  down 
the  echoing  corridors  we  hear  a  bugle-blast,  and  the 
indistinct  cry,  "Place  for  the  king!  way  for  the 
king's  most  excellent  majesty!"  These  sounds  are 
momently  repeated  —  they  grow  nearer  and  nearer 
—  and  presently,  almost  in  our  faces,  the  martial 
note  peals  and  the  cry  rings  out,  "Way  for  the 
king!"  At  this  instant  the  shining  pageant  appears, 
and  files  in  at  the  door,  with  a  measured  march. 
Let  the  chronicler  speak  again : 

"  First  come  Gentlemen,  Barons,  Earls,  Knights  of 

*  Leigh  Hunt's  "The  Town,"  p.  408,  quotation  from  an  early 
tourist. 


152  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

the  Garter,  all  richly  dressed  and  bareheaded ;  next 
comes  the  Chancellor,  between  two,  one  of  which 
carries  the  royal  scepter,  the  other  the  Sword  of 
State  in  a  red  scabbard,  studded  with  golden  fleur- 
de-lis,  the  point  upwards ;  next  comes  the  King  him 
self —  whom,  upon  his  appearing,  twelve  trumpets 
and  many  drums  salute  with  a  great  burst  of  wel 
come,  whilst  all  in  the  galleries  rise  in  their  places, 
crying  '  God  save  the  King !  '  After  him  come 
nobles  attached  to  his  person,  and  on  his  right  and 
left  march  his  guard  of  honor,  his  fifty  Gentlemen 
Pensioners,  with  gilt  battle-axes." 

This  was  all  fine  and  pleasant.  Tom's  pulse  beat 
high  and  a  glad  light  was  in  his  eye.  He  bore  him 
self  right  gracefully,  and  all  the  more  so  because  he 
was  not  thinking  of  how  he  was  doing  it,  his  mind 
being  charmed  and  occupied  with  the  blithe  sights 
and  sounds  about  him  —  and  besides,  nobody  can 
be  very  ungraceful  in  nicely-fitting  beautiful  clothes 
after  he  has  grown  a  little  used  to  them  —  especially 
if  he  is  for  the  moment  unconscious  of  them.  Tom 
remembered  his  instructions,  and  acknowledged  his 
greeting  with  a  slight  inclination  of  his  plumed  head, 
and  a  courteous  "  I  thank  ye,  my  good  people." 

He  seated  himself  at  table  without  removing  his 
cap ;  and  did  it  without  the  least  embarrassment ; 
for  to  eat  with  one's  cap  on  was  the  one  solitary 
royal  custom  upon  which  the  kings  and  the  Cantys 
met  upon  common  ground,  neither  party  having  any 
advantage  over  the  other  in  the  matter  of  old 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  153 

familiarity  with  it.  The  pageant  broke  up  and 
grouped  itself  picturesquely,  and  remained  bare 
headed. 

Now,  to  the  sound  of  gay  music,  the  Yeomen  of 
the  Guard  entered, — "  the  tallest  and  mightiest  men 
in  England,  they  being  selected  in  this  regard" — 
but  we  will  let  the  chronicler  tell  about  it : 

'  The  Yeomen  of  the  Guard  entered  bareheaded, 
clothed  in  scarlet,  with  golden  roses  upon  their 
backs;  and  these  went  and  came,  bringing  in  each 
turn  a  course  of  dishes,  served  in  plate.  These 
dishes  were  received  by  a  gentleman  in  the  same 
order  they  were  brought,  and  placed  upon  the  table, 
while  the  taster  gave  to  each  guard  a  mouthful  to 
eat  of  the  particular  dish  he  had  brought,  for  fear 
of  any  poison." 

Tom  made  a  good  dinner,  notwithstanding  he  was 
conscious  that  hundreds  of  eyes  followed  each  mor 
sel  to  his  mouth  and  watched  him  eat  it  with  an 
interest  which  could  not  have  been  more  intense  if 
it  had  been  a  deadly  explosive  and  was  expected  to 
blow  him  up  and  scatter  him  all  over  the  place.  He 
was  careful  not  to  hurry,  and  equally  careful  not  to 
do  anything  whatever  for  himself,  but  wait  till  the 
proper  official  knelt  down  and  did  it  for  him.  He 
got  through  without  a  mistake  —  flawless  and 
precious  triumph. 

When  the  meal  was  over  at  last  and  he  marched 
away  in  the  midst  of  his  bright  pageant,  with  the 
happy  noises  in  his  ears  of  blaring  bugles,  rolling 


154  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

drums,  and  thundering  acclamations,  he  felt  that  if 
he  had  seen  the  worst  of  dining  in  public,  it  was  an 
ordeal  which  he  would  be  glad  to  endure  several 
times  a  day  if  by  that  means  he  could  but  buy  him 
self  free  from  some  of  the  more  formidable  require 
ments  of  his  royal  office. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

FOO-FOO  THE   FIRST 

MILES  HENDON  hurried  along  toward  the 
Southwark  end  of  the  bridge,  keeping  a  sharp 
lookout  for  the  persons  he  sought,  and  hoping  and 
expecting  to  overtake  them  presently.  He  was  dis 
appointed  in  this,  however.  By  asking  questions, 
he  was  enabled  to  track  them  part  of  the  way 
through  Southwark;  then  all  traces  ceased,  and  he 
was  perplexed  as  to  how  to  proceed.  Still,  he  con 
tinued  his  efforts  as  best  he  could  during  the  rest 
of  the  day.  Nightfall  found  him  leg-weary,  half 
famished,  and  his  desire  as  far  from  accomplishment 
as  ever ;  so  he  supped  at  the  Tabard  inn  and  went 
to  bed,  resolved  to  make  an  early  start  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  give  the  town  an  exhaustive  search.  As 
he  lay  thinking  and  planning,  he  presently  began  to 
reason  thus  :  The  boy  would  escape  from  the  ruffian, 
his  reputed  father,  if  possible ;  would  he  go  back  to 
London  and  seek  his  former  haunts?  No,  he  would 
not  do  that,  he  would  avoid  recapture.  What,  then, 
would  he  do?  Never  having  had  a  friend  in  the 
world,  or  a  protector,  until  he  met  Miles  Hendon, 

(i55) 


156  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

he  would  naturally  try  to  find  that  friend  again, 
provided  the  effort  did  not  require  him  to  go  toward 
London  and  danger.  He  would  strike  for  Hendon 
Hall,  that  is  what  he  would  do,  for  he  knew  Hendon 
was  homeward  bound,  and  there  he  might  expect  to 
find  him.  Yes,  the  case  was  plain  to  Hendon  —  he 
must  lose  no  more  time  in  Southwark,  but  move  at 
once  through  Kent,  toward  Monk's  Holm,  searching 
the  wood  and  inquiring  as  he  went.  Let  us  return 
to  the  vanished  little  king  now. 

The  ruffian,  whom  the  waiter  at  the  inn  on  the 
Bridge  saw  "  about  to  join  "  the  youth  and  the  king, 
did  not  exactly  join  them,  but  fell  in  close  behind 
them  and  followed  their  steps.  He  said  nothing. 
His  left  arm  was  in  a  sling,  and  he  wore  a  large 
green  patch  over  his  left  eye ;  he  limped  slightly, 
and  used  an  oaken  staff  as  a  support.  The  youth 
led  the  king  a  crooked  course  through  Southwark, 
and  by  and  by  struck  into  the  high  road  beyond. 
The  king  was  irritated  now,  and  said  he  would  stop 
here  —  it  was  Hendon's  place  to  come  to  him,  not 
his  to  go  to  Hendon.  He  would  not  endure  such 
insolence;  he  would  stop  where  he  was.  The  youth 
said: 

11  Thou'lt  tarry  here,  and  thy  friend  lying  wounded 
in  the  wood  yonder?  So  be  it,  then." 

The  king's  manner  changed  at  once.  He  cried 
out: 

"  Wounded?  And  who  hath  dared  to  do  it?  But 
that  is  apart;  lead  on,  lead  on!  Faster,  sirrah!  art 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  157 

shod  with  lead?    Wounded,  is  he?    Now  though  the 
doer  of  it  be  a  duke's  son,  he  shall  rue  it!" 

It  was  some  distance  to  the  wood,  but  the  space 
was  speedily  traversed.  The  youth  looked  about 
him,  discovered  a  bough  sticking  in  the  ground, 
with  a  small  bit  of  rag  tied  to  it,  then  led  the  way 
into  the  forest,  watching  for  similar  boughs  and 
finding  them  at  intervals ;  they  were  evidently  guides 
to  the  point  he  was  aiming  at.  By  and  by  an  open 
place  was  reached,  where  were  the  charred  remains 
of  a  farmhouse,  and  near  them  a  barn  which  was 
falling  to  ruin  and  decay.  There  was  no  sign  of 
life  anywhere,  and  utter  silence  prevailed.  The 
youth  entered  the  barn,  the  king  following  eagerly 
upon  his  heels.  No  one  there  !  The  king  shot  a 
surprised  and  suspicious  glance  at  the  youth,  and 
asked : 

"Where  is  he?" 

A  mocking  laugh  was  his  answer.  The  king  was 
in  a  rage  in  a  moment;  he  seized  a  billet  of  wood 
and  was  in  the  act  of  charging  upon  the  youth  when 
another  mocking  laugh  fell  upon  his  ear.  It  was 
from  the  lame  ruffian,  who  had  been  following  at  a 
distance.  The  king  turned  and  said  angrily: 

"  Who  art  thou?     What  is  thy  business  here?" 

11  Leave  thy  foolery,"  said  the  man,  "  and  quiet 
thyself.  My  disguise  is  none  so  good  that  thou 
canst  pretend  thou  knowest  not  thy  father  through 
it." 

'  Thou  art  not  my  father.     I  know  thee  not.     I 


158  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

am  the  king.  If  thou  hast  hid  my  servant,  find  him 
for  me,  or  thou  shalt  sup  sorrow  for  what  thou  hast 
done." 

John  Canty  replied,  in  a  stern  and  measured 
voice : 

"It  is  plain  thou  art  mad,  and  I  am  loth  to 
punish  thee;  but  if  thou  provoke  me,  I  must.  Thy 
prating  doth  no  harm  here,  where  there  are  no  ears 
that  need  to  mind  thy  follies,  yet  is  it  well  to  prac 
tice  thy  tongue  to  wary  speech,  that  it  may  do  no 
hurt  when  our  quarters  change.  I  have  done  a 
murder,  and  may  not  tarry  at  home  —  neither  shalt 
thou,  seeing  I  need  thy  service.  My  name  is 
changed,  for  wise  reasons;  it  is  Hobbs  —  John 
Hobbs;  thine  is  Jack  —  charge  thy  memory  accord 
ingly.  Now,  then,  speak.  Where  is  thy  mother? 
Where  are  thy  sisters?  They  came  not  to  the  place 
appointed  —  knowest  thou  whither  they  went?" 

The  king  answered,  sullenly: 

;<  Trouble  me  not  with  these  riddles.  My  mother 
is  dead;  my  sisters  are  in  the  palace." 

The  youth  near  by  burst  into  a  derisive  laugh, 
and  the  king  would  have  assaulted  him,  but  Canty  — 
or  Hobbs,  as  he  now  called  himself  —  prevented 
him,  and  said: 

"  Peace,  Hugo,  vex  him  not;  his  mind  is  astray, 
and  thy  ways  fret  him.  Sit  thee  down,  Jack,  and 
quiet  thyself;  thou  shalt  have  a  morsel  to  eat, 
anon." 

Hobbs  and  Hugo  fell  to  talking  together,  in  low 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  159 

voices,  and  the  king  removed  himself  as  far  as  he 
could  from  their  disagreeable  company.  He  with 
drew  into  the  twilight  of  the  farther  end  of  the  barn, 
where  he  found  the  earthen  floor  bedded  a  foot  deep 
with  straw.  He  lay  down  here,  drew  straw  over 
himself  in  lieu  of  blankets,  and  was  soon  absorbed 
in  thinking.  He  had  many  griefs,  but  the  minor 
ones  were  swept  almost  into  forgetfulness  by  the 
supreme  one,  the  loss  of  his  father.  To  the  rest  of 
the  world  the  name  of  Henry  VIII.  brought  a  shiver, 
and  suggested  an  ogre  whose  nostrils  breathed  de 
struction  and  whose  hand  dealt  scourgings  and 
death ;  but  to  this  boy  the  name  brought  only  sen 
sations  of  pleasure,  the  figure  it  invoked  wore  a 
countenance  that  was  all  gentleness  and  affection. 
He  called  to  mind  a  long  succession  of  loving  pas 
sages  between  his  father  and  himself,  and  dwelt 
fondly  upon  them,  his  unstinted  tears  attesting  how 
deep  and  real  was  the  grief  that  possessed  his  heart. 
As  the  afternoon  wasted  away,  the  lad,  wearied  with 
his  troubles,  sunk  gradually  into  a  tranquil  and  heal 
ing  slumber. 

After  a  considerable  time  —  he  could  not  tell  how 
long — -his  senses  struggled  to  a  half-consciousness, 
and  as  he  lay  with  closed  eyes  vaguely  wondering 
where  he  was  and  what  had  been  happening,  he 
noted  a  murmurous  sound,  the  sullen  beating  of  rain 
upon  the  roof.  A  snug  sense  of  comfort  stole  over 
him,  which  was  rudely  broken,  the  next  moment, 
by  a  chorus  of  piping  cackles  and  coarse  laughter. 


160  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

It  startled  him  disagreeably,  and  he  unmuffled  his 
head  to  see  whence  this  interruption  proceeded.  A 
grim  and  unsightly  picture  met  his  eye.  A  bright 
fire  was  burning  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  at  the 
other  end  of  the  barn ;  and  around  it,  and  lit  weirdly 
up  by  the  red  glare,  lolled  and  sprawled  the  motliest 
company  of  tattered  gutter-scum  and  ruffians,  of 
both  sexes,  he  had  ever  read  or  dreamed  of.  There 
were  huge,  stalwart  men,  brown  with  exposure,  long 
haired,  and  clothed  in  fantastic  rags;  there  were 
middle-sized  youths,  of  truculent  countenance,  and 
similarly  clad ;  there  were  blind  mendicants,  with 
patched  or  bandaged  eyes;  crippled  ones,  with 
wooden  legs  and  crutches ;  there  was  a  villain- 
looking  peddler  with  his  pack;  a  knife-grinder,  a 
tinker,  and  a  barber-surgeon,  with  the  implements 
of  their  trades ;  some  of  the  females  v/ere  hardly- 
grown  girls,  some  were  at  prime,  some  were  old  and 
wrinkled  hags,  and  all  were  loud,  brazen,  foul- 
mouthed  ;  and  all  soiled  and  slatternly ;  there  were 
three  sore-faced  babies;  there  were  a  couple  of 
starveling  curs,  with  strings  about  their  necks,  whose 
office  was  to  lead  the  blind. 

The  night  was  come,  the  gang  had  just  finished 
feasting,  an  orgy  was  beginning,  the  can  of  liquor 
was  passing  from  mouth  to  mouth.  A  general  cry 
broke  forth : 

44  A  song!  a  song  from  the  Bat  and  Dick  Dot- 
and-go-One !" 

One  of  the  blind  men  got  up,  and  made  ready  by 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  161 

casting  aside  the  patches  that  sheltered  his  excellent 
eyes,  and  the  pathetic  placard  which  recited  the 
cause  of  his  calamity.  Dot-and-go-One  disencum 
bered  himself  of  his  timber  leg  and  took  his  place, 
upon  sound  and  healthy  limbs,  beside  his  fellow- 
rascal  ;  then  they  roared  out  a  rollicking  ditty,  and 
were  re-enforced  by  the  whole  crew,  at  the  end  of 
each  stanza,  in  a  rousing  chorus.  By  the  time  the 
last  stanza  was  reached,  the  half-drunken  enthusiasm 
had  risen  to  such  a  pitch,  that  everybody  joined  in 
and  sang  it  clear  through  from  the  beginning,  pro 
ducing  a  volume  of  villainous  sound  that  made  the 
rafters  quake.  These  were  the  inspiring  words: 

*  Bien  Darkmans  then,  Bouse  Mort  and  Ken, 
The  bien  Coves  bings  awast, 
On  Chates  to  trine  by  Rome  Coves  dine 
For  his  long  lib  at  last. 

Bing'd  out  bien  Morts  and  toure,  and  toure, 
Bing  out  of  the  Rome  vile  bine, 
And  toure  the  Cove  that  cloy'd  your  duds, 
Upon  the  Chates  to  trine."  * 

Conversation  followed ;  not  in  the  thieves'  dialect 
of  the  song,  for  that  was  only  used  in  talk  when 
unfriendly  ears  might  be  listening.  In  the  course  of 
it  it  appeared  that  "John  Hobbs  "  was  not  alto 
gether  a  new  recruit,  but  had  trained  in  the  gang  at 
some  former  time.  His  later  history  was  called  for, 
and  when  he  said  he  had  "accidentally"  killed  a 
man,  considerable  satisfaction  was  expressed ;  when 

*From  "The  English  Rogue":  London,  1665. 
11 


162  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

he  added  that  the  man  was  a  priest,  he  was  roundly 
applauded,  and  had  to  take  a  drink  with  everybody. 
Old  acquaintances  welcomed  him  joyously,  and  new 
ones  were  proud  to  shake  him  by  the  hand.  He 
was  asked  why  he  had  "tarried  away  so  many 
months."  He  answered : 

"London  is  better  than  the  country,  and  safer 
these  late  years,  the  laws  be  so  bitter  and  so  dili 
gently  enforced.  An'  I  had  not  had  that  accident, 
I  had  stayed  there.  I  had  resolved  to  stay,  and 
never  more  venture  country-wards — but  the  accident 
has  ended  that." 

He  inquired  how  many  persons  the  gang  num 
bered  now.  The  "  Ruffler,"  or  chief,  answered: 

"Five  and  twenty  sturdy  budges,  bulks,  files, 
clapperdogeons  and  maunders,  counting  the  dells 
and  doxies  and  other  morts.*  Most  are  here,  the 
rest  are  wandering  eastward,  along  the  winter  lay. 
We  follow  at  dawn." 

"  I  do  not  see  the  Wen  among  the  honest  folk 
about  me.  Where  may  he  be?" 

'  Poor  lad,  his  diet  is  brimstone  now,  and  over 
hot  for  a  delicate  taste.  He  was  killed  in  a  brawl, 
somewhere  about  midsummer." 

"  I  sorrow  to  hear  that;  the  Wen  was  a  capable 
man,  and  brave." 

"That  was  he,  truly.  Black  Bess,  his  dell,  is 
of  us  yet,  but  absent  on  the  eastward  tramp ;  a 

*  Canting  terms  for  various  kinds  of  thieves,  beggars,  and  vaga 
bonds,  and  their  female  companions. 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  16} 

fine  lass,  of  nice  ways  and  orderly  conduct,  none 
ever  seeing  her  drunk  above  four  days  in  the 
seven." 

"She  was  ever  strict  —  I  remember  it  well  —  a 
goodly  wench  and  worthy  all  commendation.  Her 
mother  was  more  free  and  less  particular ;  a  trouble 
some  and  ugly  tempered  beldame,  but  furnished 
with  a  wit  above  the  common." 

"We  lost  her  through  it.  Her  gift  of  palmistry 
and  other  sorts  of  fortune-telling  begot  for  her  at 
last  a  witch's  name  and  fame.  The  law  roasted  her 
to  death  at  a  slow  fire.  It  did  touch  me  to  a  sort  of 
tenderness  to  see  the  gallant  way  she  met  her  lot  — 
cursing  and  reviling  all  the  crowd  that  gaped  and 
gazed  around  her,  whilst  the  flames  licked  upward 
toward  her  face  and  catched  her  thin  locks  and 
crackled  about  her  old  gray  head  —  cursing  them, 
said  I?  —  cursing  them!  why  an'  thou  shouldst  live 
a  thousand  years  thou'dst  never  hear  so  masterful  a 
cursing.  Alack,  her  art  died  with  her.  There  be 
base  and  weakling  imitations  left,  but  no  true  blas 
phemy." 

The  Ruffler  sighed ;  the  listeners  sighed  in  sym 
pathy;  a  general  depression  fell  upon  the  company 
for  a  moment,  for  even  hardened  outcasts  like  these 
are  not  wholly  dead  to  sentiment,  but  are  able  to 
feel  a  fleeting  sense  of  loss  and  affliction  at  wide 
intervals  and  under  peculiarly  favoring  circum 
stances —  as  in  cases  like  to  this,  for  instance,  when 
genius  and  culture  depart  and  leave  no  heir.  How- 


164  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

ever,  a  deep  drink  all  round  soon  restored  the  spirits 
of  the  mourners. 

"Have  any  other  of  our  friends  fared  hardly?" 
asked  Hobbs. 

' '  Some  —  yes.  Particularly  new  comers  —  such 
as  small  husbandmen  turned  shiftless  and  hungry 
upon  the  world  because  their  farms  were  taken  from 
them  to  be  changed  to  sheep  ranges.  They  begged, 
and  were  whipped  at  the  cart's  tail,  naked  from  the 
girdle  up,  till  the  blood  ran;  then  set  in  the  stocks 
to  be  pelted ;  they  begged  again,  were  whipped 
again,  and  deprived  of  an  ear;  they  begged  a  third 
time  —  poor  devils,  what  else  could  they  do?  —  and 
were  branded  on  the  cheek  with  a  red-hot  iron,  then 
sold  for  slaves;  they  ran  away,  were  hunted  down, 
and  hanged.  'Tis  a  brief  tale,  and  quickly  told. 
Others  of  us  have  fared  less  hardly.  Stand  forth, 
Yokel,  Burns,  and  Hodge — -show  your  adorn 
ments  ! ' ' 

These  stood  up  and  stripped  away  some  of  their 
rags,  exposing  their  backs,  criss-crossed  with  ropy 
old  welts  left  by  the  lash ;  one  turned  up  his  hair 
and  showed  the  place  where  a  left  ear  had  once 
been :  another  showed  a  brand  upon  his  shoulder  — 
the  letter  V — and  a  mutilated  ear;  the  third  said  : 

"  I  am  Yokel,  once  a  farmer  and  prosperous,  with 
loving  wife  and  kids  —  now  am  I  somewhat  different 
in  estate  and  calling;  and  the  wife  and  kids  are 
gone;  mayhap  they  are  in  heaven,  mayhap  in  —  in 
the  other  place —  but  the  kindly  God  be  thanked, 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  165 

they  bide  no  more  in  England!  My  good  old 
blameless  mother  strove  to  earn  bread  by  nursing 
the  sick;  one  of  these  died,  the  doctors  knew  not 
how,  so  my  mother  was  burned  for  a  witch,  whilst 
my  babes  looked  on  and  wailed.  English  law!  — 
up,  all,  with  your  cups!  —  now  altogether  and  with 
a  cheer !  —  drink  to  the  merciful  English  law  that 
delivered  her  from  the  English  hell !  Thank  you, 
mates,  one  and  all.  I  begged,  from  house  to  house 
—  I  and  the  wife  —  bearing  with  us  the  hungry 
kids  —  but  it  was  crime  to  be  hungry  in  England  — 
so  they  stripped  us  and  lashed  us  through  three 
towns.  Drink  ye  all  again  to  the  merciful  English 
law! — for  its  lash  drank  deep  of  my  Mary's  blood 
and  its  blessed  deliverance  came  quick.  She  lies 
there,  in  the  potter's  field,  safe  from  all  harms. 
And  the  kids  —  well,  whilst  the  law  lashed  me  from 
town  to  town,  they  starved.  Drink  lads  —  only  a 
drop  —  a  drop  to  the  poor  kids,  that  never  did  any 
creature  harm.  I  begged  again  —  begged  for  a 
crust,  and  got  the  stocks  and  lost  an  ear  —  see, 
here  bides  the  stump;  I  begged  again,  and  here  is 
the  stump  of  the  other  to  keep  me  minded  of  it. 
And  still  I  begged  again,  and  was  sold  for  a  slave  — 
here  on  my  cheek  under  this  stain,  if  I  washed  it 
off,  ye  might  see  the  red  S  the  branding-iron  left 
there  !  A  SLAVE  !  Do  ye  understand  that  word  ! 
An  English  SLAVE  !  —  that  is  he  that  stands  before 
ye.  I  have  run  from  my  master,  and  when  I  am 
found  —  the  heavy  curse  of  heaven  fall  on  the  law 


166  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

of  the  land  that  hath  commanded  it !  - —  I  shall 
hang!"* 

A  ringing  voice  came  through  the  murky  air : 

"  Thou  shalt  not ! —  and  this  day  the  end  of  that 
law  is  come !" 

All  turned,  and  saw  the  fantastic  figure  of  the 
little  king  approaching  hurriedly ;  as  it  emerged  into 
the  light  and  was  clearly  revealed,  a  general  explo 
sion  of  inquiries  broke  out: 

"  Who  is  it?  What  is  it?  Who  art  thou,  mani 
kin?" 

The  boy  stood  unconfused  in  the  midst  of  all 
those  surprised  and  questioning  eyes,  and  answered 
with  princely  dignity : 

"  I  am  Edward,  king  of  England." 

A  wild  burst  of  laughter  followed,  partly  of 
derision  and  partly  of  delight  in  the  excellence  of 
the  joke.  The  king  was  stung.  He  said  sharply: 

"  Ye  mannerless  vagrants,  is  this  your  recognition 
of  the  royal  boon  I  have  promised?" 

He  said  more,  with  angry  voice  and  excited 
gesture,  but  it  was  lost  in  a  whirlwind  of  laughter 
and  mocking  exclamations.  "  John  Hobbs  "  made 
several  attempts  to  make  himself  heard  above  the 
din,  and  at  last  succeeded  —  saying: 

"  Mates,  he  is  my  son,  a  dreamer,  a  fool,  and  stark 
mad  —  mind  him  not — he  thinketh  he  is  the  king." 

"I  am  the  king,"  said  Edward,  turning  toward 
him,  "  as  thou  shalt  know  to  thy  cost,  in  good  time. 

*  See  Note  10,  at  end  of  volume. 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  167 

Thou    hast  confessed   a  murder  —  thou  shalt  swing 
for  it." 

'  Thou' It  betray  me! — thou  ?  An'  I  get  my 
hands  upon  thee — ' 

'Tut-tut!"  said  the  burly  Ruffler,  interposing  in 
time  to  save  the  king,  and  emphasizing  this  service 
by  knocking  Hobbs  down  with  his  fist,  "  hast  re 
spect  for  neither  kings  nor  Rufflers?  An'  thou  insult 
my  presence  so  again,  I'll  hang  thee  up  myself." 
Then  he  said  to  his  majesty,  "Thou  must  make  no 
threats  against  thy  mates,  lad ;  and  thou  must  guard 
thy  tongue  from  saying  evil  of  them  elsewhere.  Be 
king,  if  it  please  thy  mad  humor,  but  be  not  harm 
ful  in  it.  Sink  the  title  thou  hast  uttered, —  'tis 
treason  ;  we  be  bad  men,  in  some  few  trifling  ways, 
but  none  among  us  is  so  base  as  to  be  traitor  to  his 
king;  we  be  loving  and  loyal  hearts,  in  that  regard. 
Note  if  I  speak  truth.  Now  —  all  together:  'Long 
live  Edward,  king  of  England  !  '  " 

"  LONG  LIVE  EDWARD,  KING  OF  ENGLAND  !" 
The  response  came  with  such  a  thundergust  from 
the  motley  crew  that  the  crazy  building  vibrated  to 
the  sound.  The  little  king's  face  lighted  with 
pleasure  for  an  instant,  and  he  slightly  inclined  his 
head  and  said  with  grave  simplicity: 

"  I  thank  you,  my  good  people." 

This  unexpected  result  threw  the  company  into 
convulsions  of  merriment.  When  something  like 
quiet  was  presently  come  again,  the  Ruffler  said, 
firmly,  but  with  an  accent  of  good  nature : 


168  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

11  Drop  it,  boy,  'tis  not  wise,  nor  well.  Humor 
thy  fancy,  if  thou  must,  but  choose  some  other 
title." 

A  tinker  shrieked  out  a  suggestion : 

"  Foo-foo  the  First,  king  of  the  Mooncalves!" 

The  title  "took"  at  once,  every  throat  re 
sponded,  and  a  roaring  shout  went  up,  of: 

11  Long  live  Foo-foo  the  First,  king  of  the  Moon 
calves!"  followed  by  hootings,  cat-calls,  and  peals 
of  laughter. 

"  Hale  him  forth,  and  crown  him!" 

"Robe  him!" 

41  Sceptre  him !" 

"Throne  him!" 

These  and  twenty  other  cries  broke  out  at  once ; 
and  almost  before  the  poor  little  victim  could  draw 
a  breath  he  was  crowned  with  a  tin  basin,  robed  in  a 
tattered  blanket,  throned  upon  a  barrel,  and  sceptred 
with  the  tinker's  soldering-iron.  Then  all  flung 
themselves  upon  their  knees  about  him  and  sent  up 
a  chorus  of  ironical  wailings,  and  mocking  supplica 
tions,  while  they  swabbed  their  eyes  with  their  soiled 
and  ragged  sleeves  and  aprons : 

"  Be  gracious  to  us,  O  sweet  king!" 
'  Trample   not  upon    thy  beseeching  worms,    O 
noble  majesty  ! ' ' 

"  Pity  thy  slaves,  and  comfort  them  with  a  royal 
kick!" 

"  Cheer  us  and  warm  us  with  thy  gracious  rays, 
O  flaming  sun  of  sovereignty !" 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  169 

44  Sanctify  the  ground  with  the  touch  of  thy  foot, 
that  we  may  eat  the  dirt  and  be  ennobled ! ' ' 

11  Deign  to  spit  upon  us,  O  sire,  that  our  chil 
dren's  children  may  tell  of  thy  princely  condescen 
sion,  and  be  proud  and  happy  forever!" 

But  the  humorous  tinker  made  the  "hit"  of  the 
evening  and  carried  off  the  honors.  Kneeling,  he 
pretended  to  kiss  the  king's  foot,  and  was  indig 
nantly  spurned ;  whereupon  he  went  about  begging 
for  a  rag  to  paste  over  the  place  upon  his  face  which 
had  been  touched  by  the  foot,  saying  it  must  be 
preserved  from  contact  with  the  vulgar  air,  and  that 
he  should  make  his  fortune  by  going  on  the  highway 
and  exposing  it  to  view  at  the  rate  of  a  hundred 
shillings  a  sight.  He  made  himself  so  killingly 
funny  that  he  was  the  envy  and  admiration  of  the 
whole  mangy  rabble. 

Tears  of  shame  and  indignation  stood  in  the  little 
monarch's  eyes;  and  the  thought  in  his  heart  was, 
"  Had  I  offered  them  a  deep  wrong  they  could  not 
be  more  cruel  —  yet  have  I  proffered  nought  but  to 
do  them  a  kindness  —  and  it  is  thus  they  use  me 
for  it!" 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE  PRINCE  WITH  THE  TRAMPS 

THE  troop  of  vagabonds  turned  out  at  early 
dawn,  and  set  forward  on  their  march.  There 
was  a  lowering  sky  overhead,  sloppy  ground  under 
foot,  and  a  winter  chill  in  the  air.  All  gayety  was 
gone  from  the  company;  some  were  sullen  and 
silent,  some  were  irritable  and  petulant,  none  were 
gentle-humored,  all  were  thirsty. 

The  Ruffler  put  "Jack"  in  Hugo's  charge,  with 
some  brief  instructions,  and  commanded  John  Canty 
to  keep  away  from  him  and  let  him  alone ;  he  also 
warned  Hugo  not  to  be  too  rough  with  the  lad. 

After  a  while  the  weather  grew  milder,  and  the 
clouds  lifted  somewhat.  The  troop  ceased  to  shiver, 
and  their  spirits  began  to  improve.  They  grew 
more  and  more  cheerful,  and  finally  began  to  chaff 
each  other  and  insult  passengers  along  the  highway. 
This  showed  that  they  were  awaking  to  an  apprecia 
tion  of  life  and  its  joys  once  more.  The  dread  in 
which  their  sort  was  held  was  apparent  in  the  fact 
that  everybody  gave  them  the  road,  and  took  their 
ribald  insolences  meekly,  without  venturing  to  talk 
back.  They  snatched  linen  from  the  hedges,  occa- 

(170) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  171 

sionally,  in  full  view  of  the  owners,  who  made  no 
protest,  but  only  seemed  grateful  that  they  did  not 
take  the  hedges,  too. 

By  and  by  they  invaded  a  small  farmhouse  and 
made  themselves  at  home  while  the  trembling  farmer 
and  his  people  swept  the  larder  clean  to  furnish  a 
breakfast  for  them.  They  chucked  the  housewife 
and  her  daughters  under  the  chin  while  receiving  the 
food  from  their  hands,  and  made  coarse  jests  about 
them,  accompanied  with  insulting  epithets  and  bursts 
of  horse-laughter.  They  threw  bones  and  veger 
tables  at  the  farmer  and  his  sons,  kept  them  dodg 
ing  all  the  time,  and  applauded  uproariously  when  a 
good  hit  was  made.  They  ended  by  buttering  the 
head  of  one  of  the  daughters  who  resented  some  of 
their  familiarities.  When  they  took  their  leave  they 
threatened  to  come  back  and  burn  the  house  over 
the  heads  of  the  family  if  any  report  of  their  doings 
got  to  the  ears  of  the  authorities. 

About  noon,  after  a  long  and  weary  tramp,  the 
gang  came  to  a  halt  behind  a  hedge  on  the  outskirts 
of  a  considerable  village.  An  hour  was  allowed  for 
rest,  then  the  crew  scattered  themselves  abroad  to 
enter  the  village  at  different  points  to  ply  their  vari 
ous  trades.  "Jack"  was  sent  with  Hugo.  They 
wandered  hither  and  thither  for  some  time,  Hugo 
watching  for  opportunities  to  do  a  stroke  of  busi 
ness  but  finding  none  —  so  he  finally  said  : 

"I  see  nought  to  steal;  it  is  a  paltry  place, 
Wherefore  we  will  beg." 


172  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"  We,  forsooth!  Follow  thy  trade  —  it  befits 
thee.  But  /  will  not  beg. ' ' 

11  Thou  'It  not  beg!"  exclaimed  Hugo,  eyeing  the 
king  with  surprise.  "  Prithee,  since  when  hast  thou 
reformed?" 

"What  dost  thou  mean?" 

"  Mean?  Hast  thou  not  begged  the  streets  of 
London  all  thy  life?" 

"I?     Thou  idiot!" 

1 '  Spare  thy  compliments  —  thy  stock  will  last  the 
longer.  Thy  father  says  thou  hast  begged  all  thy 
days.  Mayhap  he  lied.  Peradventure  you  will  even 
make  so  bold  as  to  say  he  lied,"  scoffed  Hugo. 

"  Him  you  call  my  father?     Yes,  he  lied." 

"  Come,  play  not  thy  merry  game  of  madman  so 
far,  mate ;  use  it  for  thy  amusement,  not  thy  hurt. 
An'  I  tell  him  this,  he  will  scorch  thee  finely  for  it." 

"  Save  thyself  the  trouble.      I  will  tell  him." 

I  like  thy  spirit,  I  do  in  truth ;  but  I  do  not  ad 
mire  thy  judgment.  Bone-rackings  and  bastings  be 
plenty  enow  in  this  life,  without  going  out  of  one's 
way  to  invite  them.  But  a  truce  to  these  matters; 
/  believe  your  father.  I  doubt  not  he  can  lie ;  I 
doubt  not  he  doth  lie,  upon  occasion,  for  the  best  of 
us  do  that;  but  there  is  no  occasion  here.  A  wise 
man  does  not  waste  so  good  a  commodity  as  lying 
for  nought.  But  come ;  sith  it  is  thy  humor  to  give 
over  begging,  wherewithal  shall  we  busy  ourselves? 
With  robbing  kitchens?" 

The  king  said,  impatiently: 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  173 

11  Have  done  with  this  folly  —  you  weary  me!" 

Hugo  replied,  with  temper: 

"Now  harkee,  mate;  you  will  not  beg,  you  will 
not  rob ;  so  be  it.  But  I  will  tell  you  what  you  will 
do.  You  will  play  decoy  whilst  /  beg.  Refuse,  an' 
you  think  you  may  venture  !" 

The  king  was  about  to  reply  contemptuously, 
when  Hugo  said,  interrupting: 

"Peace!  Here  comes  one  with  a  kindly  face. 
Now  will  I  fall  down  in  a  fit.  When  the  stranger 
runs  to  me,  set  you  up  a  wail,  and  fall  upon  your 
knees,  seeming  to  weep;  then  cry  out  as  if  all  the 
devils  of  misery  were  in  your  belly,  and  say,  '  Oh, 
sir,  it  is  my  poor  afflicted  brother,  and  we  be  friend 
less;  o'  God's  name  cast  through  your  merciful  eyes 
one  pitiful  look  upon  a  sick,  forsaken,  and  most 
miserable  wretch;  bestow  one  little  penny  out  of 
thy  riches  upon  one  smitten  of  God  and  ready  to 
perish!' — and  mind  you,  keep  you  on  wailing,  and 
abate  not  till  we  bilk  him  of  his  penny,  else  shall 
you  rue  it." 

Then  immediately  Hugo  began  to  moan,  and 
groan,  and  roll  his  eyes,  and  reel  and  totter  about; 
and  when  the  stranger  was  close  at  hand,  down  he 
sprawled  before  him,  with  a  shriek,  and  began  to 
writhe  and  wallow  in  the  dirt,  in  seeming  agony. 

*'  O  dear,  O  dear !  "  cried  the  benevolent  stranger. 
"Oh,  poor  soul,  poor  soul,  how  he  doth  suffer! 
There  —  let  me  help  thee  up." 

"  O,  noble  sir,  forbear,  and  God  love  you  for  a 


174  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

princely  gentleman  —  but  it  giveth  me  cruel  pain  to 
touch  me  when  I  am  taken  so.  My  brother  there 
will  tell  your  worship  how  I  am  racked  with  anguish 
when  these  fits  be  upon  me.  A  penny,  dear  sir,  a 
penny,  to  buy  a  little  food ;  then  leave  me  to  my 
sorrows." 

"A  penny!  thou  shalt  have  three,  thou  hapless 
creature" — and  he  fumbled  in  his  pocket  with 
nervous  haste  and  got  them  out.  'There,  poor 
lad,  take  them,  and  most  welcome.  Now  come 
hither,  my  boy,  and  help  me  carry  thy  stricken 
brother  to  yon  house,  where — " 

l<  I  am  not  his  brother,"  said  the  king,  interrupt 
ing. 

"  What!   not  his  brother?" 

"  Oh,  hear  him!"  groaned  Hugo,  then  privately 
ground  his  teeth.  "  He  denies  his  own  brother  — 
and  he  with  one  foot  in  the  grave !" 

"Boy,  thou  art  indeed  hard  of  heart,  if  this  is 
thy  brother.  For  shame  !  —  and  he  scarce  able  to 
move  hand  or  foot.  If  he  is  not  thy  brother,  who 
is  he,  then?" 

"  A  beggar  and  a  thief !  He  has  got  your  money 
and  has  picked  your  pocket  likewise.  An'  thou 
wouldst  do  a  healing  miracle,  lay  thy  staff  over  his 
shoulders  and  trust  Providence  for  the  rest." 

But  Hugo  did  not  tarry  for  the  miracle.  In  a 
moment  he  was  up  and  off  like  the  wind,  the  gentle 
man  following  after  and  raising  the  hue  and  cry 
lustily  as  he  went.  The  king,  breathing  deep  grati- 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  175 

tude  to  Heaven  for  his  own  release,  fled  in  the  oppo 
site  direction  and  did  not  slacken  his  pace  until  he 
was  out  of  harm's  reach.  He  took  the  first  road 
that  offered,  and  soon  put  the  village  behind  him. 
He  hurried  along,  as  briskly  as  he  could,  during 
several  hours,  keeping  a  nervous  watch  over  his 
shoulder  for  pursuit;  but  his  fears  left  him  at  last, 
and  a  grateful  sense  of  security  took  their  place. 
He  recognized  now  that  he  was  hungry ;  and  also 
very  tired.  So  he  halted  at  a  farmhouse;  but  when 
he  was  about  to  speak,  he  was  cut  short  and  driven 
rudely  away.  His  clothes  were  against  him. 

He  wandered  on,  wounded  and  indignant,  and 
was  resolved  to  put  himself  in  the  way  of  light  treat 
ment  no  more.  But  hunger  is  pride's  master;  so 
as  the  evening  drew  near,  he  made  an  attempt  at 
another  farmhouse ;  but  here  he  fared  worse  than 
before;  for  he  was  called  hard  names  and  was 
promised  arrest  as  a  vagrant  except  he  moved  on 
promptly. 

The  night  came  on,  chilly  and  overcast;  and  still 
the  footsore  monarch  labored  slowly  on.  He  was 
obliged  to  keep  moving,  for  every  time  he  sat  down 
to  rest  he  was  soon  penetrated  to  the  bone  with  the 
cold.  All  his  sensations  and  experiences,  as  he 
moved  through  the  solemn  gloom  and  the  empty 
vastness  of  the  night,  were  new  and  strange  to  him. 
At  intervals  he  heard  voices  approach,  pass  by,  and 
fade  into  silence ;  and  as  he  saw  nothing  more  of 
the  bodies  they  belonged  to  than  a  sort  of  formles$ 


176  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

drifting  blur,  there  was  something  spectral  and  un 
canny  about  it  all  that  made  him  shudder.  Occa 
sionally  he  caught  the  twinkle  of  a  light  —  always 
far  away,  apparently  —  almost  in  another  world;  if 
he  heard  the  tinkle  of  a  sheep's  bell,  it  was  vague, 
distant,  indistinct;  the  muffled  lowing  of  the  herds 
floated  to  him  on  the  night  wind  in  vanishing 
cadences,  a  mournful  sound;  now  and  then  came 
the  complaining  howl  of  a  dog  over  viewless  ex 
panses  of  field  and  forest;  all  sounds  were  remote; 
they  made  the  little  king  feel  that  all  life  and  activity 
were  far  removed  from  him,  and  that  he  stood  soli 
tary,  companionless,  in  the  center  of  a  measureless 
solitude. 

He  stumbled  along,  through  the  grewsome  fasci 
nations  of  this  new  experience,  startled  occasionally 
by  the  soft  rustling  of  the  dry  leaves  overhead,  so 
like  human  whispers  they  seemed  to  sound ;  and  by 
and  by  he  came  suddenly  upon  the  freckled  light  of 
a  tin  lantern  near  at  hand.  He  stepped  back  into 
the  shadows  and  waited.  The  lantern  stood  by  the 
open  door  of  a  barn.  The  king  waited  some  time  — 
there  was  no  sound,  and  nobody  stirring.  He  got 
so  cold,  standing  still,  and  the  hospitable  barn 
looked  so  enticing,  that  at  last  he  resolved  to  risk 
everything  and  enter.  He  started  swiftly  and  stealth 
ily,  and  just  as  he  was  crossing  the  threshold  he 
heard  voices  behind  him.  He  darted  behind  a  cask, 
within  the  barn,  and  stooped  down.  Two  farm 
laborers  came  in,  bringing  the  lantern  with  them, 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  177 

and  fell  to  work,  talking  meanwhile.  Whilst  they 
moved  about  with  the  light,  the  king  made  good  use 
of  his  eyes  and  took  the  bearings  of  what  seemed  to 
be  a  good  sized  stall  at  the  further  end  of  the  place, 
purposing  to  grope  his  way  to  it  when  he  should  be 
left  to  himself.  He  also  noted  the  position  of  a  pile 
of  horse  blankets,  midway  of  the  route,  with  the 
intent  to  levy  upon  them  for  the  service  of  the 
crown  of  England  for  one  night. 

By  and  by  the  men  finished  and  went  away, 
fastening  the  door  behind  them  and  taking  the  lan 
tern  with  them.  The  shivering  king  made  for  the 
blankets,  with  as  good  speed  as  the  darkness  would 
allow ;  gathered  them  up  and  then  groped  his  way 
safely  to  the  stall.  Of  two  of  the  blankets  he  made 
a  bed,  then  covered  himself  with  the  remaining  two. 
He  was  a  glad  monarch  now,  though  the  blankets 
were  old  and  thin,  and  not  quite  warm  enough;  and 
besides  gave  out  a  pungent  horsy  odor  that  was 
almost  suffocatingly  powerful. 

Although  the  king  was  hungry  and  chilly,  he  was 
also  so  tired  and  so  drowsy  that  these  latter  in 
fluences  soon  began  to  get  the  advantage  of  the 
former,  and  he  presently  dozed  off  into  a  state  of 
semi-consciousness.  Then,  just  as  he  was  on  the 
point  of  losing  himself  wholly,  he  distinctly  felt 
something  touch  him  !  He  was  broad  awake  in  a 
moment,  and  gasping  for  breath.  The  cold  horror 
of  that  mysterious  touch  in  the  dark  almost  made 
his  heart  stand  still.  He  lay  motionless,  and  listened, 
12 


17S  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

scarcely  breathing.  But  nothing  stirred,  and  there 
was  no  sound.  He  continued  to  listen,  and  wait, 
during  what  seemea  a  long  time,  but  still  nothing 
stirred,  and  there  was  no  sound.  So  he  began  to 
drop  into  a  drowse  once  more  at  last;  and  all  at 
once  he  felt  that  mysterious  touch  again  !  It  was  a 
grisly  thing,  this  light  touch  from  this  noiseless  and 
invisible  presence ;  it  made  the  boy  sick  with  ghostly 
fears.  What  should  he  do?  That  was  the  ques 
tion  ;  but  he  did  not  know  how  to  answer  it. 
Should  he  leave  these  reasonably  comfortable  quar 
ters  and  fly  from  this  inscrutable  horror?  But  fly 
whither?  He  could  not  get  out  of  the  barn;  and 
the  idea  of  scurrying  blindly  hither  and  thither  in 
the  dark,  within  the  captivity  of  the  four  walls,  with 
this  phantom  gliding  after  him,  and  visiting  him  with 
that  soft  hideous  touch  upon  cheek  or  shoulder  at 
every  turn,  was  intolerable.  But  to  stay  where  he 
was,  and  endure  this  living  death  all  night  —  was 
that  better?  No.  What,  then,  was  there  left  to 
do?  Ah,  there  was  but  one  course;  he  knew  it 
well  —  he  must  put  out  his  hand  and  find  that 
thing ! 

It  was  easy  to  think  this ;  but  it  was  hard  to  brace 
himself  up  to  try  it.  Three  times  he  stretched  his 
hand  a  little  way  out  into  the  dark  gingerly;  and 
snatched  it  suddenly  back,  with  a  gasp  —  not  be 
cause  it  had  encountered  anything,  but  because  he 
had  felt  so  sure  it  was  just  going  to.  But  the  fourth 
time  he  groped  a  little  further,  and  his  hand  lightly 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  179 

swept  against  something  soft  and  warm.  This  petri 
fied  him  nearly  with  fright  —  his  mind  was  in  such  a 
state  that  he  could  imagine  the  thing  to  be  nothing 
else  than  a  corpse,  newly  dead  and  still  warm.  He 
thought  he  would  rather  die  than  touch  it  again. 
But  he  thought  this  false  thought  because  he  did  not 
know  the  immortal  strength  of  human  curiosity.  In 
no  long  time  his  hand  was  tremblingly  groping  again 
—  against  his  judgment,  and  without  his  consent  — 
but  groping  persistently  on,  just  the  same.  It  en 
countered  a  bunch  of  long  hair;  he  shuddered,  but 
followed  up  the  hair  and  found  what  seemed  to  be  a 
warm  rope ;  followed  up  the  rope  and  found  an 
innocent  calf!  —  for  the  rope  was  not  a  rope  at  all, 
but  the  calf's  tail. 

The  king  was  cordially  ashamed  of  himself  for 
having  gotten  all  that  fright  and  misery  out  of  so 
paltry  a  matter  as  a  slumbering  calf ;  but  he  need 
not  have  felt  so  about  it,  for  it  was  not  the  calf  that 
frightened  him  but  a  dreadful  non-existent  some 
thing  which  the  calf  stood  for ;  and  any  other  boy, 
in  those  old  superstitious  times,  would  have  acted 
and  suffered  just  as  he  had  done. 

The  king  was  not  only  delighted  to  find  that  the 
creature  was  only  a  calf,  but  delighted  to  have  the 
calf's  company;  for  he  had  been  feeling  so  lonesome 
and  friendless  that  the  company  and  comradeship  of 
even\  this  humble  animal  was  welcome.  And  he 
had  Been  so  buffeted,  so  rudely  entreated  by  his 
own  kind,  that  it  was  a  real  comfort  to  him  to  feel 


180  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

that  he  was  at  last  in  the  society  of  a  fellow  creature 
that  had  at  least  a  soft  heart  and  a  gentle  spirit, 
whatever  loftier  attributes  might  be  lacking.  So  he 
resolved  to  waive  rank  and  make  friends  with  the 
calf. 

While  stroking  its  sleek,  warm  back  —  for  it  lay 
near  him  and  within  easy  reach  —  it  occurred  to  him 
that  this  calf  might  be  utilized  in  more  ways  than 
one.  Whereupon  he  re-arranged  his  bed,  spreading 
it  down  close  to  the  calf ;  then  he  cuddled  himself 
up  to  the  calf's  back,  drew  the  covers  up  over  him 
self  and  his  friend,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  was  as 
warm  and  comfortable  as  he  had  ever  been  in  the 
downy  couches  of  the  regal  palace  of  Westminster. 

Pleasant  thoughts  came  at  once ;  life  took  on  a 
cheerfuller  seeming.  He  was  free  of  the.  bonds  of 
servitude  and  crime,  free  of  the  companionship  of  base 
and  brutal  outlaws;  he  was  warm,  he  was  sheltered; 
in  a  word,  he  was  happy.  The  night  wind  was 
rising;  it  swept  by  in  fitful  gusts  that  made  the  old 
barn  quake  and  rattle,  then  its  forces  died  down  at 
intervals,  and  went  moaning  and  wailing  around 
corners  and  projections  —  but  it  was  all  music  to  the 
king,  now  that  he  was  snug  and  comfortable;  let  it 
blow  and  rage,  let  it  batter  and  bang,  let  it  moan 
and  wail,  he  minded  it  not,  he  only  enjoyed  it.  He 
merely  snuggled  the  closer  to  his  friend,  in  a  luxury 
of  warm  contentment,  and  drifted  blissfully  out  of 
consciousness  into  a  deep  and  dreamless  sleep  that 
was  full  of  serenity  and  peace.  The  distant  dogs 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  181 

howled,  the  melancholy  kine  complained,  and  the 
winds  went  on  raging,  whilst  furious  sheets  of  rain 
drove  along  the  roof;  but  the  majesty  of  England 
slept  on  undisturbed,  and  the  calf  did  the  same,  it 
being  a  simple  creature  and  not  easily  troubled  by 
storms  or  embarrassed  by  sleeping  with  a  king. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

THE  PRINCE  WITH  THE  PEASANTS 

WHEN  the  king  awoke  in  the  early  morning,  he 
found  that  a  wet  but  thoughtful  rat  had  crept 
into  the  place  during  the  night  and  made  a  cosy 
bed  for  itself  in  his  bosom.  Being  disturbed  now, 
it  scampered  away.  The  boy  smiled,  and  said, 
"  Poor  fool,  why  so  fearful?  I  am  as  forlorn  as 
thou.  'Twould  be  a  shame  in  me  to  hurt  the  help 
less,  who  am  myself  so  helpless.  Moreover,  I  owe 
you  thanks  for  a  good  omen ;  for  when  a  king  has 
fallen  so  low  that  the  very  rats  do  make  a  bed  of 
him,  it  surely  meaneth  that  his  fortunes  be  upon  the 
turn,  since  it  is  plain  he  can  no  lower  go." 

He  got  up  and  stepped  out  of  the  stall,  and  just 
then  he  heard  the  sound  of  children's  voices.  The 
barn  door  opened  and  a  couple  of  little  girls  came 
in.  As  soon  as  they  saw  him  their  talking  and 
laughing  ceased,  and  they  stopped  and  stood  still, 
gazing  at  him  with  strong  curiosity;  they  presently 
began  to  whisper  together,  then  they  approached 
nearer,  and  stopped  again  to  gaze  and  whisper.  By 
and  by  they  gathered  courage  and  began  to  discuss 
Jiim  aloud.  One  said: 

( 182 ) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  183 

4 'He  hath  a  comely  face." 

The  other  added : 

11  And  pretty  hair." 

"  But  is  ill  clothed  enow." 

14  And  how  starved  he  looketh." 

They  came  still  nearer,  sidling  shyly  around  and 
about  him,  examining  him  minutely  from  all  points, 
as  if  he  were  some  strange  new  kind  of  animal ;  but 
warily  and  watchfully  the  while,  as  if  they  half  feared 
he  might  be  a  sort  of  animal  that  would  bite,  upon 
occasion.  Finally  they  halted  before  him,  holding 
each  other's  hands  for  protection,  and  took  a  good 
satisfying  stare  with  their  innocent  eyes ;  then  one 
of  them  plucked  up  all  her  courage  and  inquired 
with  honest  directness : 

"Who  art  thou,  boy?" 

"  I  am  the  king,"  was  the  grave  answer. 

The  children  gave  a  little  start,  and  their  eyes 
spread  themselves  wide  open  and  remained  so  dur 
ing  a  speechless  half-minute.  Then  curiosity  broke 
the  silence : 

"The  king?     What  king?" 

"The  king  of  England." 

The  children  looked  at  each  other  —  then  at  him 
—  then  at  each  other  again  —  wonderingly,  per 
plexedly  —  then  one  said  : 

"  Didst  hear  him,  Margery?  —  he  saith  he  is  the 
king.  Can  that  be  true?" 

"  How  can  it  be  else  but  true,  Prissy?  Would  he 
say  a  lie?  For  look  you,  Prissy,  an'  it  were  not 


184  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

true,  it  would  be  a  lie.  It  surely  would  be.  Now 
think  on't.  For  all  things  that  be  not  true,  be  lies 
—  thou  canst  make  nought  else  out  of  it." 

It  was  a  good,  tight  argument,  without  a  leak 
in  it  anywhere;  and  it  left  Prissy 's  half-doubts  not 
a  leg  to  stand  on.  She  considered  a  moment, 
then  put  the  king  upon  his  honor  with  the  simple 
remark : 

11  If  thou  art  truly  the  king,  then  I  believe  thee." 

"  I  am  truly  the  king." 

This  settled  the  matter.  His  majesty's  royalty 
was  accepted  without  further  question  or  discussion, 
and  the  two  little  girls  began  at  once  to  inquire  into 
how  he  came  to  be  where  he  was,  and  how  he  came 
to  be  so  unroyally  clad,  and  whither  he  was  bound, 
and  all  about  his  affairs.  It  was  a  mighty  relief  to 
him  to  pour  out  his  troubles  where  they  would  not 
be  scoffed  at  or  doubted ;  so  he  told  his  tale  with 
feeling,  forgetting  even  his  hunger  for  the  time ;  and 
it  was  received  with  the  deepest  and  tenderest  sym 
pathy  by  the  gentle  little  maids.  But  when  he  got 
down  to  his  latest  experiences  and  they  learned  how 
long  he  had  been  without  food,  they  cut  him  short 
and  hurried  him  away  to  the  farmhouse  to  find  a 
breakfast  for  him. 

The  king  was  cheerful  and  happy  now,  and  said 
to  himself,  "  When  I  am  come  to  mine  own  again,  I 
wilj  always  honor  little  children,  remembering  how 
that  these  trusted  me  and  believed  in  me  in  my  time 
of  trouble ;  whilst  they  that  were  older,  and  thought 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  185 

themselves  wiser,  mocked  at  me  and  held  me  for  a 
liar." 

The  children's  mother  received  the  king  kindly, 
and  was  full  of  pity ;  for  his  forlorn  condition  and 
apparently  crazed  intellect  touched  her  womanly 
heart.  She  was  a  widow,  and  rather  poor;  conse 
quently  she  had  seen  trouble  enough  to  enable  her 
to  feel  for  the  unfortunate.  She  imagined  that  the 
demented  boy  had  wandered  away  from  his  friends 
or  keepers ;  so  she  tried  to  find  out  whence  he  had 
come,  in  order  that  she  might  take  measures  to  re 
turn  him ;  but  all  her  references  to  neighboring 
towns  and  villages,  and  all  her  inquiries  in  the  same 
line,  went  for  nothing  —  the  boy's  face,  and  his 
answers,  too,  showed  that  the  things  she  was  talking 
of  were  not  familiar  to  him.  He  spoke  earnestly 
and  simply  about  court  matters;  and  broke  down, 
more  than  once,  when  speaking  of  the  late  king 
"his  father";  but  whenever  the  conversation 
changed  to  baser  topics,  he  lost  interest  and  became 
silent. 

The  woman  was  mightily  puzzled ;  but  she  did 
not  give  up.  As  she  proceeded  with  her  cooking, 
she  set  herself  to  contriving  devices  to  surprise  the 
boy  into  betraying  his  real  secret.  She  talked  about 
cattle  —  he  showed  no  concern ;  then  about  sheep  — 
the  same  result  —  so  her  guess  that  he  had  been  a 
shepherd  boy  was  an  error ;  she  talked  about  mills ; 
and  about  weavers,  tinkers,  smiths,  trades  and 
tradesmen  of  all  sorts;  and  about  Bedlam,  and  jails, 


186  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

and  charitable  retreats;  but  no  matter,  she  was 
baffled  at  all  points.  Not  altogether,  either;  for 
she  argued  that  she  had  narrowed  the  thing  down  to 
domestic  service.  Yes,  she  was  sure  she  was  on  the 
right  track  now  —  he  must  have  been  a  house  ser 
vant.  So  she  led  up  to  that.  But  the  result  was 
discouraging.  The  subject  of  sweeping  appeared  to 
weary  him ;  fire-building  failed  to  stir  him ;  scrub 
bing  and  scouring  awoke  no  enthusiasm.  Then  the 
goodwife  touched,  with  a  perishing  hope,  and  rather 
as  a  matter  of  form,  upon  the  subject  of  cooking. 
To  her  surprise,  and  her  vast  delight,  the  king's  face 
lighted  at  once !  Ah,  she  had  hunted  him  down  at 
last,  she  thought;  and  she  was  right  proud,  too,  of 
the  devious  shrewdness  and  tact  which  had  accom 
plished  it. 

Her  tired  tongue  got  a  chance  to  rest  now ;  for  the 
king's,  inspired  by  gnawing  hunger  and  the  fragrant 
smells  that  came  from  the  sputtering  pots  and  pans, 
turned  itself  loose  and  delivered  itself  up  to  such  an 
eloquent  dissertation  upon  certain  toothsome  dishes, 
that  within  three  minutes  the  woman  said  to  herself, 
"Of  a  truth  I  was  right — -he  hath  holpen  in  a 
kitchen!"  Then  he  broadened  his  bill  of  fare,  and 
discussed  it  with  such  appreciation  and  animation, 
that  the  goodwife  said  to  herself,  '  *  Good  lack ! 
how  can  he  know  so  many  dishes,  and  so  fine  ones 
withal?  For  these  belong  only  upon  the  tables  of 
the  rich  and  great.  Ah,  now  I  see !  ragged  outcast 
as  he  is,  he  must  have  served  in  the  palace  before 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  187 

his  reason  went  astray;  yes,  he  must  have  helped  in 
the  very  kitchen  of  the  king  himself !  I  will  test 
him." 

Full  of  eagerness  to  prove  her  sagacity,  she  told 
the  king  to  mind  the  cooking  a  moment  —  hinting 
that  he  might  manufacture  and  add  a  dish  or  two,  if 
he  chose  —  then  she  went  out  of  the  room  and  gave 
her  children  a  sign  to  follow  after.  The  king  mut 
tered  : 

"  Another  English  king  had  a  commission  like  to 
this,  in  a  bygone  time  —  it  is  nothing  against  my 
dignity  to  undertake  an  office  which  the  great  Alfred 
stooped  to  assume.  But  I  will  try  to  better  serve 
my  trust  than  he;  for  he  let  the  cakes  burn." 

The  intent  was  good,  but  the  performance  was  not 
answerable  to  it;  for  this  king,  like  the  other  one, 
soon  fell  into  deep  thinkings  concerning  his  vast 
affairs,  and  the  same  calamity  resulted  —  the  cook 
ery  got  burned.  The  woman  returned  in  time  to 
save  the  breakfast  from  entire  destruction ;  and  she 
promptly  brought  the  king  out  of  his  dreams  with  a 
brisk  and  cordial  tongue-lashing.  Then,  seeing  how 
troubled  he  was  over  his  violated  trust,  she  softened 
at  once  and  was  all  goodness  and  gentleness  toward 
him. 

The  boy  made  a  hearty  and  satisfying  meal,  and 
was  greatly  refreshed  and  gladdened  by  it.  It  was  a 
meal  which  was  distinguished  by  this  curious  feature, 
that  rank  was  waived  on  both  sides;  yet  neither 
recipient  of  the  favor  was  aware  that  it  had  been 


188  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

extended.  The  goodwife  had  intended  to  feed  this 
young  tramp  with  broken  victuals  in  a  corner,  like 
any  other  tramp,  or  like  a  dog;  but  she  was  so  re 
morseful  for  the  scolding  she  had  given  him,  that 
she  did  what  she  could  to  atone  for  it  by  allowing 
him  to  sit  at  the  family  table  and  eat  with  his  bet 
ters,  on  ostensible  terms  of  equality  with  them ;  and 
the  king,  on  his  side,  was  so  remorseful  for  having 
broken  his  trust,  after  the  family  had  been  so  kind 
to  him,  that  he  forced  himself  to  atone  for  it  by 
humbling  himself  to  the  family  level,  instead  of  re 
quiring  the  woman  and  her  children  to  stand  and 
wait  upon  him  while  he  occupied  their  table  in  the 
solitary  state  due  his  birth  and  dignity.  It  does  us 
all  good  to  unbend  sometimes.  This  good  woman 
was  made  happy  all  the  day  long  by  the  applauses 
she  got  out  of  herself  for  her  magnanimous  conde 
scension  to  a  tramp ;  and  the  king  was  just  as  self- 
complacent  over  his  gracious  humility  toward  a 
humble  peasant  woman. 

When  breakfast  was  over,  the  housewife  told  the 
king  to  wash  up  the  dishes.  This  command  was  a 
staggerer  for  a  moment,  and  the  king  came  near 
rebelling;  but  then  he  said  to  himself,  "Alfred  the 
Great  watched  the  cakes ;  doubtless  he  would  have 
washed  the  dishes,  too  —  therefore  will  I  essay  it." 

He  made  a  sufficiently  poor  job  of  it;  and  to  his 
surprise,  too,  for  the  cleaning  of  wooden  spoons 
and  trenchers  had  seemed  an  easy  thing  to  do.  It 
was  a  tedious  and  troublesome  piece  of  work,  but 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  189 

he  finished  it  at  last.  He  was  becoming  impatient  to 
get  away  on  his  journey  now;  however,  he  was  not 
to  lose  this  thrifty  dame's  society  so  easily.  She 
furnished  him  some  little  odds  and  ends  of  employ 
ment,  which  he  got  through  with  after  a  fair 
fashion  and  with  some  credit.  Then  she  set  him 
and  the  little  girls  to  paring  some  winter  apples ; 
but  he  was  so  awkward  at  this  service  that  she  retired 
him  from  it  and  gave  him  a  butcher  knife  to  grind. 
Afterward  she  kept  him  carding  wool  until  he  began 
to  think  he  had  laid  the  good  King  Alfred  about  far 
enough  in  the  shade  for  the  present,  in  the  matter 
of  showy  menial  heroisms  that  would  read  pic 
turesquely  in  story-books  and  histories,  and  so  he 
was  half  minded  to  resign.  And  when,  just  after 
the  noonday  dinner,  the  goodwife  gave  him  a  basket 
of  kittens  to  drown,  he  did  resign.  At  least  he  was 
just  going  to  resign  —  for  he  felt  that  he  must  draw 
the  line  somewhere,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  to 
draw  it  at  kitten-drowning  was  about  the  right  thing 
—  when  there  was  an  interruption.  The  interrup 
tion  was  John  Canty  —  with  a  peddler's  pack  on  his 
back  —  and  Hugo! 

The  king  discovered  these  rascals  approaching  the 
front  gate  before  they  had  had  a  chance  to  see  him ; 
so  he  said  nothing  about  drawing  the  line,  but  took 
up  his  basket  of  kittens  and  stepped  quietly  out 
the  back  way,  without  a  word.  He  left  the  creatures 
in  an  outhouse,  and  hurried  on  into  a  narrow  lane  at 
the  rear. 
13 


CHAPTER   XX. 

THE   PRINCE  AND   THE  HERMIT 

THE  high  hedge  hid  him  from  the  house  now ;  and 
so,  under  the  impulse  of  a  deadly  fright,  he  let 
out  all  his  forces  and  sped  toward  a  wood  in  the  dis 
tance.  He  never  looked  back  until  he  had  almost 
gained  the  shelter  of  the  forest ;  then  he  turned  and 
descried  two  figures  in  the  distance.  That  was 
sufficient;  he  did  not  wait  to  scan  them  critically, 
but  hurried  on,  and  never  abated  his  pace  till  he  was 
far  within  the  twilight  depths  of  the  wood.  Then 
he  stopped ;  being  persuaded  that  he  was  now  toler 
ably  safe.  He  listened  intently,  but  the  stillness  was 
profound  and  solemn  —  awful,  even,  and  depressing 
to  the  spirits.  At  wide  intervals  his  straining  ear 
did  detect  sounds,  but  they  were  so  remote,  and 
hollow,  and  mysterious,  that  they  seemed  not  to  be 
real  sounds,  but  only  the  moaning  and  complaining 
ghosts  of  departed  ones.  So  the  sounds  were  yet 
more  dreary  than  the  silence  which  they  interrupted. 
It  was  his  purpose,  in  the  beginning,  to  stay  where 
he  was,  the  rest  of  the  day;  but  a  chill  soon  invaded 
his  perspiring  body,  and  he  was  at  last  obliged  to 
resume  movement  in  order  to  get  warm.  He  struck 

(190) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  191 

straight  through  the  forest,  hoping  to  pierce  to  a 
road  presently,  but  he  was  disappointed  in  this.  He 
traveled  on  and  on;  but  the  farther  he  went,  the 
denser  the  wood  became,  apparently.  The  gloom 
began  to  thicken,  by  and  by,  and  the  king  realized 
that  the  night  was  coming  on.  It  made  him  shudder 
to  think  of  spending  it  in  such  an  uncanny  place ; 
so  he  tried  to  hurry  faster,  but  he  only  made  the 
less  speed,  for  he  could  not  now  see  well  enough  to 
choose  his  steps  judiciously;  consequently  he  kept 
tripping  over  roots  and  tangling  himself  in  vines  and 
briers. 

And  how  glad  he  was  when  at  last  he  caught  the 
glimmer  of  a  light !  He  approached  it  warily,  stop 
ping  often  to  look  about  him  and  listen.  It  came 
from  an  unglazed  window-opening  in  a  little  hut. 
He  heard  a  voice  now,  and  felt  a  disposition  to  run 
and  hide;  but  he  changed  his  mind  at  once,  for  this 
voice  was  praying,  evidently.  He  glided  to  the  one 
window  of  the  hut,  raised  himself  on  tiptoe,  and 
stole  a  glance  within.  The  room  was  small;  its 
floor  was  the  natural  earth,  beaten  hard  by  use;  in 
a  corner  was  a  bed  of  rushes  and  a  ragged  blanket 
or  two;  near  it  was  a  pail,  a  cup,  a  basin,  and  two 
or  three  pots  and  pans ;  there  was  a  short  bench  and 
a  three-legged  stool ;  on  the  hearth  the  remains  of  a 
fagot  fire  were  smouldering;  before  a  shrine,  which 
was  lighted  by  a  single  candle,  knelt  an  aged  man, 
and  on  an  old  wooden  box  at  his  side  lay  an  open 
book  and  a  human  skull.  The  man  was  of  large, 


192  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

bony  frame ;  his  hair  and  whiskers  were  very  long 
and  snowy  white ;  he  was  clothed  in  a  robe  of  sheep 
skins  which  reached  from  his  neck  to  his  heels. 

41 A  holy  hermit!"  said  the  king  to  himself; 
"  now  am  I  indeed  fortunate." 

The  hermit  rose  from  his  knees ;  the  king  knocked. 
A  deep  voice  responded : 

"Enter!  —  but  leave  sin  behind,  for  the  ground 
whereon  thou  shalt  stand  is  holy ! ' ' 

The  king  entered,  and  paused.  The  hermit  turned 
a  pair  of  gleaming,  unrestful  eyes  upon  him,  and 
said : 

4 'Who  art  thou?" 

44  I  am  the  king,"  came  the  answer,  with  placid 
simplicity. 

44  Welcome,  king!"  cried  the  hermit,  with  enthu 
siasm.  Then,  bustling  about  with  feverish  activity, 
and  constantly  saying  44  Welcome,  welcome,"  he 
arranged  his  bench,  seated  the  king  on  it,  by  the 
hearth,  threw  some  fagots  on  the  fire,  and  finally  fell 
to  pacing  the  floor,  with  a  nervous  stride. 

4 'Welcome!  Many  have  sought  sanctuary  here, 
but  they  were  not  worthy,  and  were  turned  away. 
But  a  king  who  casts  his  crown  away,  and  despises 
the  vain  splendors  of  his  office,  and  clothes  his  body 
in  rags,  to  devote  his  life  to  holiness  and  the  morti 
fication  of  the  flesh  —  he  is  worthy,  he  is  welcome! 
—  here  shall  he  abide  all  his  days  till  death  come." 
The  king  hastened  to  interrupt  and  explain,  but  the 
hermit  paid  no  attention  to  him  —  did  not  even  hear 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  193 

him,  apparently,  but  went  right  on  with  his  talk, 
with  a  raised  voice  and  a  growing  energy.  "And 
thou  shalt  be  at  peace  here.  None  shall  find  out 
thy  refuge  to  disquiet  thee  with  supplications  to 
return  to  that  empty  and  foolish  life  which  God  hath 
moved  thee  to  abandon.  Thou  shalt  pray  here; 
thou  shalt  study  the  Book ;  thou  shalt  meditate  upon 
the  follies  and  delusions  of  this  world,  and  upon  the 
sublimities  of  the  world  to  come ;  thou  shalt  feed 
upon  crusts  and  herbs,  and  scourge  thy  body  with 
whips  daily,  to  the  purifying  of  thy  soul.  Thou 
shalt  wear  a  hair  shirt  next  thy  skin ;  thou  shalt 
drink  water  only;  and  thou  shalt  be  at  peace;  yes, 
wholly  at  peace ;  for  whoso  comes  to  seek  thee  shall 
go  his  way  again  baffled ;  he  shall  not  find  thee,  he 
shall  not  molest  thee." 

The  old  man,  still  pacing  back  and  forth,  ceased 
to  speak  aloud,  and  began  to  mutter.  The  king 
seized  this  opportunity  to  state  his  case;  and  he  did 
it  with  an  eloquence  inspired  by  uneasiness  and  ap 
prehension.  But  the  hermit  went  on  muttering,  and 
gave  no  heed.  And  still  muttering,  he  approached 
the  king  and  said,  impressively: 

14  'Sh!  I  will  tell  you  a  secret!"  He  bent  down 
to  impart  it,  but  checked  himself,  and  assumed  a 
listening  attitude.  After  a  moment  or  two  he  went 
on  tiptoe  to  the  window-opening,  put  his  head  out 
and  peered  around  in  the  gloaming,  then  came  tip 
toeing  back  again,  put  his  face  close  down  to  the 
king's  and  whispered: 
13 


194  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"  I  am  an  archangel !" 

The  king  started  violently,  and  said  to  himself, 
"  Would  God  I  were  with  the  outlaws  again;  for  lo, 
now  am  I  the  prisoner  of  a  madman  !"  His  appre 
hensions  were  heightened,  and  they  showed  plainly 
in  his  face.  In  a  low,  excited  voice,  the  hermit 
continued : 

"  I  see  you  feel  my  atmosphere  !  There's  awe  in 
your  face  !  None  may  be  in  this  atmosphere  and 
not  be  thus  affected ;  for  it  is  the  very  atmosphere 
of  heaven.  I  go  thither  and  return,  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye.  I  was  made  an  archangel  on  this  very 
spot,  it  is  five  years  ago,  by  angels  sent  from  heaven 
to  confer  that  awful  dignity.  Their  presence  filled 
this  place  with  an  intolerable  brightness.  And  they 
knelt  to  me,  king!  yes,  they  knelt  to  me  !  for  I  was 
greater  than  they.  I  have  walked  in  the  courts  of 
heaven,  and  held  speech  with  the  patriarchs.  Touch 
my  hand  —  be  not  afraid  —  touch  it.  There  —  now 
thou  hast  touched  a  hand  which  has  been  clasped  by 
Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob !  For  I  have  walked 
in  the  golden  courts,  I  have  seen  the  Deity  face  to 
face!"  He  paused,  to  give  this  speech  effect;  then 
his  face  suddenly  changed,  and  he  started  to  his  feet 
again,  saying,  with  angry  energy,  "Yes,  I  am  an 
archangel ;  a  mere  archangel  /  —  I  that  might  have 
been  pope !  It  is  verily  true.  I  was  told  it  from 
heaven  in  a  dream,  twenty  years  ago;  ah,  yes,  I 
was  to  be  pope  !  —  and  I  should  have  been  pope,  for 
Heaven  had  said  it — but  the  king  dissolved  my 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  195 

religious  house,  and  I,  poor  obscure  unfriended 
monk,  was  cast  homeless  upon  the  world,  robbed  of 
my  mighty  destiny  ! ' '  Here  he  began  to  mumble 
again,  and  beat  his  forehead  in  futile  rage,  with  his 
fist;  now  and  then  articulating  a  venomous  curse, 
and  now  and  then  a  pathetic  "Wherefore  I  am 
nought  but  an  archangel  —  I  that  should  have  been 
pope !" 

So  he  went  on  for  an  hour,  while  the  poor  little 
king  sat  and  suffered.  Then  all  at  once  the  old 
man's  frenzy  departed,  and  he  became  all  gentle 
ness.  His  voice  softened,  he  came  down  out  of  his 
clouds,  and  fell  to  prattling  along  so  simply  and  so 
humanely,  that  he  soon  won  the  king's  heart  com 
pletely.  The  old  devotee  moved  the  boy  nearer  to 
the  fire  and  made  him  comfortable;  doctored  his 
small  bruises  and  abrasions  with  a  deft  and  tender 
hand ;  and  then  set  about  preparing  and  cooking  a 
supper  —  chatting  pleasantly  all  the  time,  and  occa 
sionally  stroking  the  lad's  cheek  or  patting  his  head, 
in  such  a  gently  caressing  way  that  in  a  little  while 
all  the  fear  and  repulsion  inspired  by  the  archangel 
were  changed  to  reverence  and  affection  for  the  man. 

This  happy  state  of  things  continued  while  the 
two  ate  the  supper;  then,  after  a  prayer  before  the 
shrine,  the  hermit  put  the  boy  to  bed,  in  a  small  ad 
joining  room,  tucking  him  in  as  snugly  and  lovingly 
as  a  mother  might;  and  so,  with  a  parting  caress, 
left  him  and  sat  down  by  the  fire,  and  began  to  poke 
the  brands  about  in  an  absent  and  aimless  way. 
M 


196  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

Presently  he  paused ;  then  tapped  his  forehead  sev 
eral  times  with  his  fingers,  as  if  trying  to  recall  some 
thought  which  had  escaped  from  his  mind.  Ap 
parently  he  was  unsuccessful.  Now  he  started 
quickly  up,  and  entered  his  guest's  room,  and  said: 
4  Thou  art  king?" 

"  Yes,"  was  the  response,  drowsily  uttered 

14  What  king?" 

"Of  England." 

11  Of  England.     Then  Henry  is  gone  !" 

"  Alack,  it  is  so.      I  am  his  son." 

A  black  frown  settled  down  upon  the  hermit's 
face,  and  he  clenched  his  bony  hands  with  a  vindic 
tive  energy.  He  stood  a  few  moments,  breathing 
fast  and  swallowing  repeatedly,  then  said  in  a  husky 
voice : 

"  Dost  know  it  was  he  that  turned  us  out  into  the 
world  houseless  and  homeless?" 

There  was  no  response.  The  old  man  bent  down 
and  scanned  the  boy's  reposeful  face  and  listened  to 
his  placid  breathing.  ' '  He  sleeps  —  sleeps  soundly ; ' ' 
and  the  frown  vanished  away  and  gave  place  to  an 
expression  of  evil  satisfaction.  A  smile  flitted  across 
the  dreaming  boy's  features.  The  hermit  muttered, 
"So  —  his  heart  is  happy;"  and  he  turned  away. 
He  went  stealthily  about  the  place,  seeking  here  and 
there  for  something;  now  and  then  halting  to  listen, 
now  and  then  jerking  his  head  around  and  casting  a 
quick  glance  toward  the  bed ;  and  always  muttering, 
always  mumbling  to  himself.  At  last  he  found  what 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  197 

he  seemed  to  want  —  a  rusty  old  butcher  knife  and 
a  whetstone.  Then  he  crept  to  his  place  by  the 
fire,  sat  himself  down,  and  began  to  whet  the  knife 
softly  on  the  stone,  still  muttering,  mumbling,  ejacu 
lating.  The  winds  sighed  around  the  lonely  place, 
the  mysterious  voices  of  the  night  floated  by  out  of 
the  distances.  The  shining  eyes  of  venturesome 
mice  and  rats  peered  out  at  the  old  man  from  cracks 
and  coverts,  but  he  went  on  with  his  work,  rapt,  ab 
sorbed,  and  noted  none  of  these  things. 

At  long  intervals  he  drew  his  thumb  along  the 
edge  of  his  knife,  and  nodded  his  head  with  satisfac 
tion.  "  It  grows  sharper,"  he  said;  "  yes,  it  grows 
sharper." 

He  took  no  note  of  the  flight  of  time,  but  worked 
tranquilly  on,  entertaining  himself  with  his  thoughts, 
which  broke  out  occasionally  in  articulate  speech : 

"  His  father  wrought  us  evil,  he  destroyed  us  — 
and  is  gone  down  into  the  eternal  fires !  Yes,  down 
into  the  eternal  fires!  He  escaped  us  —  but  it  was 
God's  will,  yes  it  was  God's  will,  we  must  not 
repine.  But  he  hath  not  escaped  the  fires !  no,  he 
hath  not  escaped  the  fires,  the  consuming,  unpity- 
ing,  remorseless  fires  —  and  they  are  everlasting!" 

And  so  he  wrought;  and  still  wrought;  mum 
bling —  chuckling  a  low  rasping  chuckle  at  times  — 
and  at  times  breaking  again  into  words : 

"  It  was  his  father  that  did  it  all.  I  am  but  an 
archangel  —  but  for  him,  I  should  be  pope!" 

The  king  stirred.     The  hermit  sprang  noiselessly 


198  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

to  the  bedside,  and  went  down  upon  his  knees, 
bending  over  the  prostrate  form  with  his  knife  up 
lifted.  The  boy  stirred  again;  his  eyes  came  open 
for  an  instant,  but  there  was  no  speculation  in  them, 
they  saw  nothing;  the  next  moment  his  tranquil 
breathing  showed  that  his  sleep  was  sound  once 
more. 

The  hermit  watched  and  listened  for  a  time,  keep 
ing  his  position  and  scarcely  breathing;  then  he 
slowly  lowered  his  arm,  and  presently  crept  away, 
saying : 

"It  is  long  past  midnight  —  it  is  not  best  that  he 
should  cry  out,  lest  by  accident  some  one  be  pass 
ing." 

He  glided  about  his  hovel,  gathering  a  rag  here,  a 
thong  there,  and  another  one  yonder;  then  he  re 
turned,  and  by  careful  and  gentle  handling  he 
managed  to  tie  the  king's  ankles  together  without 
waking  him.  Next  he  essayed  to  tie  the  wrists;  he 
made  several  attempts  to  cross  them,  but  the  boy 
always  drew  one  hand  or  the  other  away,  just  as  the 
cord  was  ready  to  be  applied ;  but  at  last,  when  the 
archangel  was  almost  ready  to  despair,  the  boy 
crossed  his  hands  himself,  and  the  next  moment 
they  were  bound.  Now  a  bandage  was  passed  under 
the  sleeper's  chin  and  brought  up  over  his  head  and 
tied  fast  —  and  so  softly,  so  gradually,  and  so  deftly 
were  the  knots  drawn  together  and  compacted,  that 
the  boy  slept  peacefully  through  it  all  without 
stirring. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

HENDON  TO   THE   RESCUE 

THE  old  man  glided  away,  stooping,  stealthily, 
cat-like,  and  brought  the  low  bench.  He 
seated  himself  upon  it,  half  his  body  in  the  dim  and 
flickering  light,  and  the  other  half  in  shadow;  and 
so,  with  his  craving  eyes  bent  upon  the  slumbering 
boy,  he  kept  his  patient  vigil  there,  heedless  of  the 
drift  of  time,  and  softly  whetted  his  knife,  and 
mumbled  and  chuckled ;  and  in  aspect  and  attitude 
he  resembled  nothing  so  much  as  a  grizzly,  mon 
strous  spider,  gloating  over  some  hapless  insect  that 
lay  bound  and  helpless  in  his  web. 

After  a  long  while,  the  old  man,  who  was  still 
gazing, —  yet  not  seeing,  his  mind  having  settled 
into  a  dreamy  abstraction, —  observed  on  a  sudden, 
that  the  boy's  eyes  were  open  —  wide  open  and 
staring!  —  staring  up  in  frozen  horror  at  the  knife. 
The  smile  of  a  gratified  devil  crept  over  the  old 
man's  face,  and  he  said,  without  changing  his  atti 
tude  or  occupation : 

"  Son  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  hast  thou  prayed  ?" 
The  boy  struggled  helplessly  in  his  bonds ;   and  at 
the  same  time  forced  a  smothered  sound  through  his 

(199) 


200  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

closed  jaws,  which  the  hermit  chose  to  interpret  as 
an  affirmative  answer  to  his  question. 

'  Then    pray    again.     Pray    the    prayer    for   the 
dying!" 

A  shudder  shook  the  boy's  frame,  and  his  face 
blenched.  Then  he  struggled  again  to  free  himself 
—  turning  and  twisting  himself  this  way  and  that; 
tugging  frantically,  fiercely,  desperately  —  but  use 
lessly —  to  burst  his  fetters;  and  all  the  while  the 
old  ogre  smiled  down  upon  him,  and  nodded  his 
head,  and  placidly  whetted  his  knife,  mumbling, 
from  time  to  time,  '  The  moments  are  precious, 
they  are  few  and  precious  —  pray  the  prayer  for  the 
dying!" 

The  boy  uttered  a  despairing  groan,  and  ceased 
from  his  struggles,  panting.  The  tears  came,  then, 
and  trickled,  one  after  the  other,  down  his  face;  but 
this  piteous  sight  wrought  no  softening  effect  upon 
the  savage  old  man. 

The  dawn  was  coming  now;  the  hermit  observed 
it,  and  spoke  up  sharply,  with  a  touch  of  nervous 
apprehension  in  his  voice : 

"I  may  not  indulge  this  ecstasy  longer!  The 
night  is  already  gone.  It  seems  but  a  moment  — 
only  a  moment;  would  it  had  endured  a  year! 
Seed  of  the  Church's  spoiler,  close  thy  perishing 
eyes,  an*  thou  fearest  to  look  upon " 

The  rest  was  lost  in  inarticulate  mutterings.  The 
old  man  sank  upon  his  knees,  his  knife  in  his  hand, 
and  bent  himself  over  the  moaning  boy  — 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  201 

Hark !  There  was  a  sound  of  voices  near  the 
cabin  —  the  knife  dropped  from  the  hermit's  hand; 
he  cast  a  sheepskin  over  the  boy  and  started  up, 
trembling.  The  sounds  increased,  and  presently  the 
voices  became  rough  and  angry;  then  came  blows, 
and  cries  for  help ;  then  a  clatter  of  swift  footsteps 
retreating.  Immediately  came  a  succession  of  thun 
dering  knocks  upon  the  cabin  door,  followed  by : 

"  Hullo-o-o  !  Open  !  And  despatch,  in  the  name 
of  all  the  devils!" 

Oh,  this  was  the  blessedest  sound  that  had  ever 
made  music  in  the  king's  ears;  for  it  was  Miles 
Hendon's  voice ! 

The  hermit,  grinding  his  teeth  in  impotent  rage, 
moved  swiftly  out  of  the  bedchamber,  closing  the 
door  behind  him ;  and  straightway  the  king  heard  a 
talk,  to  this  effect,  proceeding  from  the  "  chapel  "  : 

"  Homage  and  greeting,  reverend  sir!  Where  is 
the  boy  —  my  boy?" 

"What  boy,  friend?" 

"What  boy!  Lie  me  no  lies,  sir  priest,  play 
me  no  deceptions  !  —  I  am  not  in  the  humor  for  it. 
Near  to  this  place  I  caught  the  scoundrels  who  I 
judged  did  steal  him  from  me,  and  I  made  them 
confess;  they  said  he  was  at  large  again,  and  they 
had  tracked  him  to  your  door.  They  showed  me 
his  very  footprints.  Now  palter  no  more;  for  look 
you,  holy  sir,  an'  thou  produce  him  not —  Where 
is  the  boy?" 

11  Oh,  good  sir,  peradventure  you  mean  the  ragged 


202  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

regal  vagrant  that  tarried  here  the  night.  If  such  as 
you  take  interest  in  such  as  he,  know,  then,  that  I 
have  sent  him  of  an  errand.  He  will  be  back  anon." 

"  How  soon?  How  soon?  Come,  waste  not  the 
time  —  cannot  I  overtake  him?  How  soon  will  he 
be  back?" 

'  Thou  needst  not  stir;   he  will  return  quickly." 

"  So  be  it  then.  I  will  try  to  wait.  But  stop  !  — - 
you  sent  him  of  an  errand?  —  you!  Verily,  this  is 
a  lie  —  he  would  not  go.  He  would  pull  thy  old 
beard,  an'  thou  didst  offer  him  such  an  insolence. 
Thou  hast  lied,  friend;  thou  hast  surely  lied  !  He 
would  not  go  for  thee  nor  for  any  man." 

"  For  any  7?2#72  —  no;  haply  not.  But  I  am  not 
a  man." 

"  What!  Now  o'  God's  name  what  art  thou, 
then?" 

"  It  is  a  secret — mark  thou  reveal  it  not.  I  am 
an  archangel ! ' ' 

There  was  a  tremendous  ejaculation  from  Miles 
Hendon  —  not  altogether  unprofane  —  followed  by : 

"This  doth  well  and  truly  account  for  his  com 
plaisance  !  Right  well  I  knew  he  would  budge  nor 
hand  nor  foot  in  the  menial  service  of  any  mortal ; 
but  lord,  even  a  king  must  obey  when  an  archangel 
gives  the  word  o'  command  !  Let  me — 'sh  !  What 
noise  was  that?" 

All  this  while  the  king  had  been  yonder,  alternately 
quaking  with  terror  and  trembling  with  hope ;  and 
all  the  while,  too,  he  had  thrown  all  the  strength  he 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  203 

could  into  his  anguished  meanings,  constantly  ex 
pecting  them  to  reach  Hendon's  ear,  but  always 
realizing,  with  bitterness,  that  they  failed,  or  at  least 
made  no  impression.  So  this  last  remark  of  his 
servant  came  as  comes  a  reviving  breath  from  fresh 
fields  to  the  dying;  and  he  exerted  himself  once 
more,  and  with  all  his  energy,  just  as  the  hermit  was 
saying: 

14  Noise?     I  heard  only  the  wind." 

"  Mayhap  it  was.  Yes,  doubtless  that  was  it.  I 
have  been  hearing  it  faintly  all  the  —  there  it  is 
again  !  It  is  not  the  wind  !  What  an  odd  sound  ! 
Come,  we  will  hunt  it  out!" 

Now  the  king's  joy  was  nearly  insupportable. 
His  tired  lungs  did  their  utmost  —  and  hopefully, 
too  —  but  the  sealed  jaws  and  the  muffling  sheepskin 
sadly  crippled  the  effort.  Then  the  poor  fellow's 
heart  sank,  to  hear  the  hermit  say: 

"  Ah,  it  came  from  without — -I  think  from  the 
copse  yonder.  Come,  I  will  lead  the  way." 

The  king  heard  the  two  pass  out  talking;  heard 
their  footsteps  die  quickly  away  —  then  he  was  alone 
with  a  boding,  brooding,  awful  silence. 

It  seemed  an  age  till  he  heard  the  steps  and  voices 
approaching  again  —  and  this  time  he  heard  an 
added  sound  —  the  trampling  of  hoofs,  apparently. 
Then  he  heard  Hendon  say: 

"I  wrill  not  wait  longer.  I  cannot  wait  longer. 
He  has  lost  his  way  in  this  thick  wood.  Which 
direction  took  he?  Quick  —  point  it  out  to  me." 


204  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"  He  —  but  wait;   I  will  go  with  thee." 

11  Good  —  good  !  Why,  truly  thou  are  better  than 
thy  looks.  Marry,  I  do  think  there's  not  another 
archangel  with  so  right  a  heart  as  thine.  Wilt  ride? 
Wilt  take  the  wee  donkey  that's  for  my  boy,  or  wilt 
thou  fork  thy  holy  legs  over  this  ill-conditioned  slave 
of  a  mule  that  I  have  provided  for  myself?  —  and 
had  been  cheated  in,  too,  had  he  cost  but  the  in 
different  sum  of  a  month's  usury  on  a  brass  farthing 
let  to  a  tinker  out  of  work." 

"No  —  ride  thy  mule,  and  lead  thine  ass;  I  am 
surer  on  mine  own  feet,  and  will  walk." 

1  Then,  prithee,  mind  the  little  beast  for  me  while 
I  take  my  life  in  my  hands  and  make  what  success  I 
may  toward  mounting  the  big  one." 

Then  followed  a  confusion  of  kicks,  cuffs,  tramp- 
lings  and  plungings,  accompanied  by  a  thunderous 
intermingling  of  volleyed  curses,  and  finally  a  bitter 
apostrophe  to  the  mule,  which  must  have  broken  its 
spirit,  for  hostilities  seemed  to  cease  from  that 
moment. 

With  unutterable  misery  the  fettered  little  king 
heard  the  voices  and  footsteps  fade  away  and  die 
out.  All  hope  forsook  him  now  for  the  moment, 
and  a  dull  despair  settled  down  upon  his  heart. 
"  My  only  friend  is  deceived  and  got  rid  of,"  he 
said;  "  the  hermit  will  return  and — "  He  finished 
with  a  gasp ;  and  at  once  fell  to  struggling  so  frantic 
ally  with  his  bonds  again,  that  he  shook  off  the 
smothering  sheepskin. 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  205 

And  now  he  heard  the  door  open  !  The  sound 
chilled  him  to  the  marrow  —  already  he  seemed  to 
feel  the  knife  at  his  throat.  Horror  made  him  close 
his  eyes ;  horror  made  him  open  them  again  —  and 
before  him  stood  John  Canty  and  Hugo ! 

He  would  have  said  "Thank  God!"  if  his  jaws 
had  been  free. 

A  moment  or  two  later  his  limbs  were  at  liberty, 
and  his  captors  each  gripping  him  by  an  arm,  were 

hurrying  him  with  all  speed  through  the  forest. 
14 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

A  VICTIM   OF  TREACHERY 

ONCE  more  "King  Foo-Foo  the  First"  was 
roving  with  the  tramps  and  outlaws,  a  butt 
for  their  coarse  jests  and  dull-witted  railleries,  and 
sometimes  the  victim  of  small  spitefulnesses  at  the 
hands  of  Canty  and  Hugo  when  the  Ruffler's  back 
was  turned.  None  but  Canty  and  Hugo  really  dis 
liked  him.  Some  of  the  others  liked  him,  and  all 
admired  his  pluck  and  spirit.  During  two  or  three 
days,  Hugo,  in  whose  ward  and  charge  the  king 
was,  did  what  he  covertly  could  to  make  the  boy 
uncomfortable ;  and  at  night,  during  the  customary 
orgies,  he  amused  the  company  by  putting  small 
indignities  upon  him  —  always  as  if  by  accident. 
Twice  he  stepped  upon  the  king's  toes  —  accident 
ally —  and  the  king,  as  became  his  royalty,  was 
contemptuously  unconscious  of  it  and  indifferent  to 
it;  but  the  third  time  Hugo  entertained  himself  in 
that  way,  the  king  felled  him  to  the  ground  with  a 
cudgel,  to  the  prodigious  delight  of  the  tribe. 
Hugo,  consumed  with  anger  and  shame,  sprang  up, 
seized  a  cudgel,  and  came  at  his  small  adversary  in 

(206) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  207 

a  fury.  Instantly  a  ring  was  formed  around  the 
gladiators,  and  the  betting  and  cheering  began.  But 
poor  Hugo  stood  no  chance  whatever.  His  frantic 
and  lubberly  'prentice-work  found  but  a  poor  market 
for  itself  when  pitted  against  an  arm  which  had  been 
trained  by  the  first  masters  of  Europe  in  single-stick, 
quarter-staff,  and  every  art  and  trick  of  swordsman 
ship.  The  little  king  stood,  alert  but  at  graceful 
ease,  and  caught  and  turned  aside  the  thick  rain  of 
blows  with  a  facility  and  precision  which  set  the 
motley  on-lookers  wild  with  admiration ;  and  every 
now  and  then,  when  his  practiced  eye  detected  an 
opening,  and  a  lightning-swift  rap  upon  Hugo's 
head  followed  as  a  result,  the  storm  of  cheers  and 
laughter  that  swept  the  place  was  something  wonder 
ful  to  hear.  At  the  end  of  fifteen  minutes,  Hugo, 
all  battered,  bruised,  and  the  target  for  a  pitiless 
bombardment  of  ridicule,  slunk  from  the  field;  and 
the  unscathed  hero  of  the  fight  was  seized  and  borne 
aloft  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  joyous  rabble  to  the 
place  of  honor  beside  the  Ruffler,  where  with  vast 
ceremony  he  was  crowned  King  of  the  Game-Cocks ; 
his  meaner  title  being  at  the  same  time  solemnly 
canceled  and  annulled,  and  a  decree  of  banishment 
from  the  gang  pronounced  against  any  who  should 
henceforth  utter  it. 

All  attempts  to  make  the  king  serviceable  to  the 
troop  had  failed.  He  had  stubbornly  refused  to 
act;  moreover,  he  was  always  trying  to  escape.  He 
had  been  thrust  into  an  unwatched  kitchen,  the  first 


208  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

day  of  his  return ;  he  not  only  came  forth  empty- 
handed,  but  tried  to  rouse  the  housemates.  He 
was  sent  out  with  a  tinker  to  help  him  at  his  work; 
he  would  not  work;  moreover,  he  threatened  the 
tinker  with  his  own  soldering-iron ;  and  finally  both 
Hugo  and  the  tinker  found  their  hands  full  with  the 
mere  matter  of  keeping  him  from  getting  away.  He 
delivered  the  thunders  of  his  royalty  upon  the  heads 
of  all  who  hampered  his  liberties  or  tried  to  force 
him  to  service.  He  was  sent  out,  in  Hugo's  charge, 
in  company  with  a  slatternly  woman  and  a  diseased 
baby,  to  beg;  but  the  result  was  not  encouraging  — 
he  declined  to  plead  for  the  mendicants,  or  be  a 
party  to  their  cause  in  any  way. 

Thus  several  days  went  by;  and  the  miseries  of 
this  tramping  life,  and  the  weariness  and  sordidness 
and  meanness  and  vulgarity  of  it,  became  gradually 
and  steadily  so  intolerable  to  the  captive  that  he 
began  at  last  to  feel  that  his  release  from  the  hermit's 
knife  must  prove  only  a  temporary  respite  from 
death,  at  best. 

But  at  night,  in  his  dreams,  these  things  were  for 
gotten,  and  he  was  on  his  throne,  and  master  again. 
This,  of  course,  intensified  'the  sufferings  of  the 
awakening — so  the  mortifications  of  each  succeed 
ing  morning  of  the  few  that  passed  between  his  re 
turn  to  bondage  and  the  combat  with  Hugo,  grew 
bitterer  and  bitterer,  and  harder  and  harder  to  bear. 

The  morning  after  that  combat,  Hugo  got  up  with 
a  heart  filled  with  vengeful  purposes  against  the 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  209 

king.  He  had  two  plans  in  particular.  One  was  to 
inflict  upon  the  lad  what  would  be,  to  his  proud 
spirit  and  "imagined"  royalty,  a  peculiar  humilia 
tion;  and  if  he  failed  to  accomplish  this,  his  other 
plan  was  to  put  a  crime  of  some  kind  upon  the  king 
and  then  betray  him  into  the  implacable  clutches  of 
the  law. 

In  pursuance  of  the  first  plan,  he  proposed  to  put 
a  "  clime  "  upon  the  king's  leg,  rightly  judging  that 
that  would  mcrtify  him  to  the  last  and  perfect  de 
gree;  and  as  soon  as  the  clime  should  operate,  he 
meant  to  get  Canty's  help,  and  force  the  king  to  ex 
pose  his  leg  in  the  highway  and  beg  for  alms. 
"Clime"  was  the  cant  term  fora  sore,  artificially 
created.  To  make  a  clime,  the  operator  made  a 
paste  or  poultice  of  unslaked  lime,  soap,  and  the 
rust  of  old  iron,  and  spread  it  upon  a  piece  of 
leather,  which  was  then  bound  tightly  upon  the  leg. 
This  would  presently  fret  off  the  skin,  and  make  the 
flesh  raw  and  angry-looking ;  blood  was  then  rubbed 
upon  the  limb,  which,  being  fully  dried,  took  on  a 
dark  and  repulsive  color.  Then  a  bandage  of  soiled 
rags  was  put  on  in  a  cleverly  careless  way  which 
would  allow  the  hideous  ulcer  to  be  seen  and  move 
the  compassion  of  the  passer-by.* 

Hugo  got  the  help  of  the  tinker  whom  the  king 
had  cowed  with  the  soldering-iron;  they  took  the 
boy  out  on  a  tinkering  tramp,  and  as  soon  as  they 
were  out  of  sight  of  the  camp  they  threw  him  down 

*From  "The  English  Rogue";   London,  1665. 
14 


210  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

and  the  tinker  held  him  while  Hugo  bound  the 
poultice  tight  and  fast  upon  his  leg. 

The  king  raged  and  stormed,  and  promised  to  hang 
the  two  the  moment  the  scepter  was  in  his  hand 
again;  but  they  kept  a  firm  grip  upon  him  and 
enjoyed  his  impotent  struggling  and  jeered  at  his 
threats.  This  continued  until  the  poultice  began  to 
bite ;  and  in  no  long  time  its  work  would  have  been 
perfected,  if  there  had  been  no  interruption.  But 
there  was;  for  about  this  time  the  "slave"  who 
had  made  the  speech  denouncing  England's  laws, 
appeared  on  the  scene  and  put  an  end  to  the  enter 
prise,  and  stripped  off  the  poultice  and  bandage. 

The  king  wanted  to  borrow  his  deliverer's  cudgel 
and  warm  the  jackets  of  the  two  rascals  on  the  spot ; 
but  the  man  said  no,  it  would  bring  trouble  —  leave 
the  matter  till  night ;  the  whole  tribe  being  together, 
then,  the  outside  world  would  not  venture  to  inter 
fere  or  interrupt.  He  marched  the  party  back  to 
camp  and  reported  the  affair  to  the  Ruffler,  who 
listened,  pondered,  and  then  decided  that  the  king 
should  not  be  again  detailed  to  beg,  since  it  was 
plain  he  was  worthy  of  something  higher  and  better 
—  wherefore,  on  the  spot  he  promoted  him  from  the 
mendicant  rank  and  appointed  him  to  steal ! 

Hugo  was  overjoyed.  He  had  already  tried  to 
make  the  king  steal,  and  failed;  but  there  would  be 
no  more  trouble  of  that  sort  now,  for,  of  course, 
the  king  would  not  dream  of  defying  a  distinct  com 
mand  delivered  directly  from  headquarters.  So  he 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  211 

planned  a  raid  for  that  very  afternoon,  purposing  to 
get  the  king  in  the  law's  grip  in  the  course  of  it; 
and  to  do  it,  too,  with  such  ingenious  strategy,  that 
it  should  seem  to  be  accidental  and  unintentional ; 
for  the  King  of  the  Game-Cocks  was  popular  now, 
and  the  gang  might  not  deal  over-gently  with  an  un 
popular  member  who  played  so  serious  a  treachery 
upon  him  as  the  delivering  him  over  to  the  common 
enemy,  the  law. 

Very  well.  All  in  good  time  Hugo  strolled  off  to 
a  neighboring  village  with  his  prey;  and  the  two 
drifted  slowly  up  and  down  one  street  after  another, 
the  one  watching  sharply  for  a  sure  chance  to 
achieve  his  evil  purpose,  and  the  other  watching  as 
sharply  for  a  chance  to  dart  away  and  get  free  of 
his  infamous  captivity  forever. 

Both  threw  away  some  tolerably  fair-looking  op 
portunities;  for  both,  in  their  secret  hearts,  were 
resolved  to  make  absolutely  sure  work  this  time,  and 
neither  meant  to  allow  his  fevered  desires  to  seduce 
him  into  any  venture  that  had  much  uncertainty 
about  it. 

Hugo's  chance  came  first.  For  at  last  a  woman 
approached  who  carried  a  fat  package  of  some  sort 
in  a  basket.  Hugo's  eyes  sparkled  with  sinful 
pleasure  as  he  said  to  himself,  "Breath  o'  my  life, 
an'  I  can  but  put  that  upon  him,  'tis  good-den  and 
God  keep  thee,  King  of  the  Game-Cocks!"  He 
waited  and  watched  —  outwardly  patient,  but  in 
wardly  consuming  with  excitement- — till  the  woman 
w 


212  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

had  passed  by,  and  the  time  was  ripe;  then  said,  in 
a  low  voice:  "  Tarry  here  till  I  come  again,"  and 
darted  stealthily  after  the  prey. 

The  king's  heart  was  filled  with  joy  —  he  could 
make  his  escape  now,  if  Hugo's  quest  only  carried 
him  far  enough  away. 

But  he  was  to  have  no  such  luck.  Hugo  crept 
behind  the  woman,  snatched  the  package,  and  came 
running  back,  wrapping  it  in  an  old  piece  of  blanket 
which  he  carried  'on  his  arm.  The  hue  and  cry  was 
raised  in  a  moment  by  the  woman,  who  knew  her 
loss  by  the  lightening  of  her  burden,  although  she 
had  not  seen  the  pilfering  done.  Hugo  thrust  the 
bundle  into  the  king's  hands  without  halting,  saying: 

"Now  speed  ye  after  me  with  the  rest,  and  cry 
'  Stop  thief!'  but  mind  ye  lead  them  astray !" 

The  next  moment  Hugo  turned  a  corner  and 
darted  down  a  crooked  alley, —  and  in  another  mo 
ment  or  two  he  lounged  into  view  again,  looking 
innocent  and  indifferent,  and  took  up  a  position  be 
hind  a  post  to  watch  results. 

The  insulted  king  threw  the  bundle  on  the  ground  ; 
and  the  blanket  fell  away  from  it  just  as  the  woman 
arrived,  with  an  augmenting  crowd  at  her  heels;  she 
seized  the  king's  wrist  with  one  hand,  snatched  up 
her  bundle  with  the  other,  and  began  to  pour  out  a 
tirade  of  abuse  upon  the  boy  while  he  struggled, 
without  success,  to  free  himself  from  her  grip. 

Hugo  had  seen  enough  — his  enemy  was  captured 
and  the  law  would  get  him  now  —  so  he  slipped 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  213 

away,  jubilant  and  chuckling,  and  wended  camp- 
wards,  framing  a  judicious  version  of  the  matter  to 
give  to  the  Ruffler's  crew  as  he  strode  along. 

The  king  continued  to  struggle  in  the  woman's 
grasp,  and  now  and  then  cried  out,  in  vexation: 

"  Unhand  me,  thou  foolish  creature;  it  was  not  I 
that  bereaved  thee  of  thy  paltry  goods." 

The  crowd  closed  around,  threatening  the  king 
and  calling  him  names;  a  brawny  blacksmith  in 
leather  apron,  and  sleeves  rolled  to  his  elbows,  made 
a  reach  for  him,  saying  he  would  trounce  him  well, 
for  a  lesson ;  but  just  then  a  long  sword  flashed  in 
the  air  and  fell  with  convincing  force  upon  the  man's 
arm,  flat-side  down,  the  fantastic  owner  of  it  remark 
ing  pleasantly  at  the  same  time : 

"Marry,  good  souls,  let  us  proceed  gently,  not 
with  ill  blood  and  uncharitable  words.  This  is 
matter  for  the  law's  consideration,  not  private  and 
unofficial  handling.  Loose  thy  hold  from  the  boy, 
goodwife." 

The  blacksmith  averaged  the  stalwart  soldier  with 
a  glance,  then  went  muttering  away,  rubbing  his 
arm;  the  woman  released  the  boy's  wrist  reluc 
tantly  ;  the  crowd  eyed  the  stranger  unlovingly,  but 
prudently  closed  their  mouths.  The  king  sprang  to 
his  deliverer's  side,  with  flushed  cheeks  and  spark 
ling  eyes,  exclaiming: 

"Thou  hast  lagged  sorely,  but  thou  comest  in 
good  season  now,  Sir  Miles;  carve  me  this  rabble  to 
rags!" 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  PRINCE  A  PRISONER 

HENDON  forced  back  a  smile,  and  bent  down 
and  whispered  in  the  king's  ear: 

"  Softly,  softly  my  prince,  wag  thy  tongue  warily 
—  nay,  suffer  it  not  to  wag  at  all.  Trust  in  me  — 
all  shall  go  well  in  the  end."  Then  he  added,  to 
himself:  "Sir  Miles!  Bless  me,  I  had  totally  for 
got  I  was  a  knight !  Lord  how  marvelous  a  thing  it 
is,  the  grip  his  memory  doth  take  upon  his  quaint 

and  crazy  fancies  ! An  empty  and  foolish  title 

is  mine,  and  yet  it  is  something  to  have  deserved  it, 
for  I  think  it  is  more  honor  to  be  held  worthy  to  be 
a  specter-knight  in  his  Kingdom  of  Dreams  and 
Shadows,  than  to  be  held  base  enough  to  be  an  earl 
in  some  of  the  real  kingdoms  of  this  world." 

The  crowd  fell  apart  to  admit  a  constable,  who 
approached  and  was  about  to  lay  his  hand  upon  the 
king's  shoulder,  when  Hendon  said: 

"  Gently,  good  friend,  withhold  your  hand  —  he 
shall  go  peaceably ;  I  am  responsible  for  that.  Lead 
on,  we  will  follow." 

The  officer  led,  with  the  woman  and  her  bundle; 

(214) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  215 

Miles  and  the  king  followed  after,  with  the  crowd  at 
their  heels.  The  king  was  inclined  to  rebel;  but 
Hendon  said  to  him  in  a  low  voice : 

14  Reflect,  sire  —  your  laws  are  the  wholesome 
breath  of  your  own  royalty;  shall  their  source  resist 
them,  yet  require  the  branches  to  respect  them? 
Apparently,  one  of  these  laws  has  been  broken ; 
when  the  king  is  on  his  throne  again,  can  it  ever 
grieve  him  to  remember  that  when  he  was  seemingly 
a  private  person  he  loyally  sunk  the  king  in  the 
citizen  and  submitted  to  its  authority?" 

'  Thou  art  right ;  say  no  more ;  thou  shalt  see 
that  whatsoever  the  king  of  England  requires  a  sub 
ject  to  suffer  under  the  law,  he  will  himself  suffer 
while  he  holdeth  the  station  of  a  subject." 

When  the  woman  was  called  upon  to  testify  before 
the  justice  of  the  peace,  she  swore  that  the  small 
prisoner  at  the  bar  was  the  person  who  had  com 
mitted  the  theft ;  there  was  none  able  to  show  the 
contrary,  so  the  king  stood  convicted.  The  bundle 
was  now  unrolled,  and  when  the  contents  proved  to 
be  a  plump  little  dressed  pig,  the  judge  looked 
troubled,  while  Hendon  turned  pale,  and  his  body 
was  thrilled  with  an  electric  shiver  of  dismay;  but 
the  king  remained  unmoved,  protected  by  his  igno 
rance.  The  judge  meditated,  during  an  ominous 
pause,  then  turned  to  the  woman,  with  the  question: 

"What  dost  thou  hold  this  property  to  be 
worth?" 

The  woman  courtesied  and  replied  : 


216  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"Three  shillings  and  eightpence,  your  worship  — 
I  could  not  abate  a  penny  and  set  forth  the  value 
honestly." 

The  justice  glanced  around  uncomfortably  upon 
the  crowd,  then  nodded  to  the  constable  and  said: 

11  Clear  the  court  and  close  the  doors." 

It  was  done.  None  remained  but  the  two  officials, 
the  accused,  the  accuser,  and  Miles  Hendon.  This 
latter  was  rigid  and  colorless,  and  on  his  forehead 
big  drops  of  cold  sweat  gathered,  broke  and  blended 
together,  and  trickled  down  his  face.  The  judge 
turned  to  the  woman  again,  and  said,  in  a  compas 
sionate  voice : 

'Tis  a  poor  ignorant  lad,  and  mayhap  was  driven 
hard  by  hunger,  for  these  be  grievous  times  for  the 
unfortunate;  mark  you,  he  hath  not  an  evil  face  — 
but  when  hunger  driveth — Good  woman!  dost 
know  that  when  one  steals  a  thing  above  the  value 
of  thirteen  pence  ha'penny  the  law  saith  he  shall 
hang  for  it?" 

The  little  king  started,  wide-eyed  with  consterna 
tion,  but  controlled  himself  and  held  his  peace;  but 
not  so  the  woman.  She  sprang  to  her  feet,  shaking 
with  fright,  and  cried  out: 

"Oh,  good  lack,  what  have  I  done!  God-a- 
mercy,  I  would  not  hang  the  poor  thing  for  the 
whole  world !  Ah,  save  me  from  this,  your  wor 
ship —  what  shall  I  do,  what  can  I  do?" 

The  justice  maintained  his  judicial  composure,  and 
simply  said : 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  217 

"Doubtless  it  is  allowable  to  revise  the  value, 
since  it  is  not  yet  writ  upon  the  record." 

"Then  in  God's  name  call  the  pig  eightpence, 
and  heaven  bless  the  day  that  freed  my  conscience 
of  this  awesome  thing!" 

Miles  Hendon  forgot  all  decorum  in  his  delight; 
and  surprised  the  king  and  wounded  his  dignity  by 
throwing  his  arms  around  him  and  hugging  him. 
The  woman  made  her  grateful  adieux  and  started 
away  with  her  pig ;  and  when  the  constable  opened 
the  door  for  her,  he  followed  her  out  into  the 
narrow  hall.  The  justice  proceeded  to  write  in  his 
record  book.  Hendon,  always  alert,  thought  he 
would  like  to  know  why  the  officer  followed  the 
woman  out;  so  he  slipped  softly  into  the  dusky 
hall  and  listened.  He  heard  a  conversation  to  this 
effect : 

"  It  is  a  fat  pig,  and  promises  good  eating;  I  will 
buy  it  of  thee;  here  is  the  eightpence." 

"  Eightpence,  indeed  !  Thou'lt  do  no  such  thing. 
It  cost  me  three  shillings  and  eightpence,  good 
honest  coin  of  the  last  reign,  that  old  Harry  that's 
just  dead  ne'er  touched  nor  tampered  with.  A  fig 
for  thy  eightpence!" 

"Stands  the  wind  in  that  quarter?  Thou  wast 
under  oath,  and  so  swore  falsely  when  thou  saidst 
the  value  was  but  eightpence.  Come  straightway 
back  with  me  before  his  worship,  and  answer  for  the 
crime  !  — -and  then  the  lad  will  hang." 

"There,   there,  dear   heart,    say   no   more,  I   am 


218  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

content.     Give   me   the   eightpence,   and    hold  thy 
peace  about  the  matter." 

The  woman  went  off  crying;  Hendon  slipped 
back  into  the  court  room,  and  the  constable  pres 
ently  followed,  after  hiding  his  prize  in  some  con 
venient  place.  The  justice  wrote  a  while  longer, 
then  read  the  king  a  wise  and  kindly  lecture,  and 
sentenced  him  to  a  short  imprisonment  in  the  com 
mon  jail,  to  be  followed  by  a  public  flogging.  The 
astounded  king  opened  his  mouth  and  was  probably 
going  to  order  the  good  judge  to  be  beheaded  on 
the  spot;  but  he  caught  a  warning  sign  from  Hen 
don,  and  succeeded  in  closing  his  mouth  again  be 
fore  he  lost  anything  out  of  it.  Hendon  took  him 
by  the  hand,  now  made  reverence  to  the  justice,  and 
the  two  departed  in  the  wake  of  the  constable  toward 
the  jail.  The  moment  the  street  was  reached,  the 
inflamed  monarch  halted,  snatched  away  his  hand, 
and  exclaimed : 

"  Idiot,  dost  imagine  I  will  enter  a  common  jail 
alive?" 

Hendon  bent  down  and  said,  somewhat  sharply: 
'  Will  you  trust  in  me?  Peace!  and  forbear  to 
worsen  our  chances  with  dangerous  speech.  What 
God  wills,  will  happen;  thou  canst  not  hurry  it, 
thou  canst  not  alter  it;  therefore  wait,  and  be 
patient — 'twill  be  time  enow  to  rail  or  rejoice  when 
what  is  to  happen  has  happened."* 

*  See  Notes  to  Chapter  23,  at  end  of  volume. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  ESCAPE 

THE  short  winter  day  was  nearly  ended.  The 
streets  were  deserted,  save  for  a  few  random 
stragglers,  and  these  hurried  straight  along,  with  the 
intent  look  of  people  who  were  only  anxious  to  ac 
complish  their  errands  as  quickly  as  possible  and 
then  snugly  house  themselves  from  the  rising  wind 
and  the  gathering  twilight.  They  looked  neither  to 
the  right  nor  to  the  left ;  they  paid  no  attention  to 
our  party,  they  did  not  even  seem  to  see  them. 
Edward  the  Sixth  wondered  if  the  spectacle  of  a 
king  on  his  way  to  jail  had  ever  encountered  such 
marvelous  indifference  before.  By  and  by  the  con 
stable  arrived  at  a  deserted  market-square  and  pro 
ceeded  to  cross  it.  When  he  had  reached  the 
middle  of  it,  Hendon  laid  his  hand  upon  his  arm, 
and  said  in  a  low  voice : 

11  Bide  a  moment,  good  sir,  there  is  none  in  hear 
ing,  and  I  would  say  a  word  to  thee." 

14  My  duty  forbids  it,  sir;  prithee,  hinder  me  not, 
the  night  comes  on." 


220  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"  Stay,  nevertheless,  for  the  matter  concerns  thee 
nearly.  Turn  thy  back  a  moment  and  seem  not  to 
see ;  let  this  poor  lad  escape. ' ' 

"  This  to  me,  sir  !     I  arrest  thee  in  — " 

*'  Nay,  be  not  too  hasty.  See  thou  be  careful 
and  commit  no  foolish  error" — then  he  shut  his 
voice  down  to  a  whisper,  and  said  in  the  man's 
ear — "the  pig  thou  hast  purchased  for  eightpence 
may  cost  thee  thy  neck,  man  !" 

The  poor  constable,  taken  by  surprise,  was  speech 
less  at  first,  then  found  his  tongue  and  fell  to  bluster 
ing  and  threatening;  but  Hendon  was  tranquil,  and 
waited  with  patience  till  his  breath  was  spent;  then 
said : 

"I  have  a  liking  to  thee,  friend,  and  would  not 
willingly  see  thee  come  to  harm.  Observe,  I  heard 
it  all  —  every  word.  I  will  prove  it  to  thee."  Then 
he  repeated  the  conversation  which  the  officer  and 
the  woman  had  had  together  in  the  hall,  word  for 
word,  and  ended  with: 

"  There  —  have  I  set  it  forth  correctly?  Should 
not  I  be  able  to  set  it  forth  correctly  before  the 
judge,  if  occasion  required?" 

The  man  was  dumb  with  fear  and  distress  for  a 
moment;  then  he  rallied  and  said  with  forced  light 
ness: 

'Tis  making  a  mighty  matter  indeed,  out  of  a 
jest;  I  but  plagued  the  woman  for  mine  amuse 
ment." 

"  Kept  you  the  woman's  pig  for  amusement?" 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  221 

The  man  answered  sharply: 

"Nought  else,  good  sir — I  tell  thee  'twas  but  a 
jest." 

"  I  do  begin  to  believe  thee,"  said  Hendon,  with 
a  perplexing  mixture  of  mockery  and  half-conviction 
in  his  tone  ;  "  but  tarry  thou  here  a  moment  whilst  I 
run  and  ask  his  worship — for  nathless,  he  being  a 
man  experienced  in  law,  in  jests,  in — " 

He  was  moving  away,  still  talking;  the  constable 
hesitated,  fidgeted,  spat  out  an  oath  or  two,  then 
cried  out: 

11  Hold,  hold,  good  sir  —  prithee,  wait  a  little  — 
the  judge !  why  man,  he  hath  no  more  sympathy 
with  a  jest  than  hath  a  dead  corpse  !  —  come,  and 
we  will  speak  further.  Ods  body !  I  seem  to  be  in 
evil  case  —  and  all  for  an  innocent  and  thoughtless 
pleasantry.  I  am  a  man  of  family;  and  my  wife 
and  little  ones —  List  to  reason,  good  your  wor 
ship;  what  wouldst  thou  of  me?" 

"  Only  that  thou  be  blind  and  dumb  and  paralytic 
whilst  one  may  count  a  hundred  thousand  —  count 
ing  slowly,"  said  Hendon,  with  the  expression  of  a 
man  who  asks  but  a  reasonable  favor,  and  that  a 
very  little  one. 

11  It  is  my  destruction !"  said  the  constable  de 
spairingly.  "Ah,  be  reasonable,  good  sir;  only 
look  at  this  matter,  on  all  its  sides,  and  see  how 
mere  a  jest  it  is  —  how  manifestly  and  how  plainly 
it  is  so.  And  even  if  one  granted  it  were  not  a  jest, 
it  is  a  fault  so  small  that  e'en  the  grimmest  penalty 

IS 


222  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

it  could  call  forth  would  be  but  a  rebuke  and  warn 
ing  from  the  judge's  lips." 

Hendon  replied  with  a  solemnity  which  chilled 
the  air  about  him  : 

11  This  jest  of  thine  hath  a  name  in  law  —  wot  you 
what  it  is?" 

"I  knew  it  not!  Peradventure  I  have  been  un 
wise.  I  never  dreamed  it  had  a  name  —  ah,  sweet 
heaven,  I  thought  it  was  original." 

'  Yes,  it  hath  a  name.  In  the  law  this  crime  is 
called  Non  compos  mentis  lex  talionis  sic  transit 
gloria  Mundi" 

"Ah,  my  God!" 

"  And  the  penalty  is  death !" 

"  God  be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner!" 

"By  advantage  taken  of  one  in  fault,  in  dire 
peril,  and  at  thy  mercy,  thou  hast  seized  goods 
worth  above  thirteen  pence  ha'penny,  paying  but  a 
trifle  for  the  same ;  and  this,  in  the  eye  of  the  law, 
is  constructive  barratry,  misprision  of  treason,  mal 
feasance  in  office,  ad  Jiomincm  cxpurgatis  in  statu 
quo  —  and  the  penalty  is  death  by  the  halter,  with 
out  ransom,  commutation,  or  benefit  of  clergy." 

1  'Bear  me  up,  bear  me  up,  sweet  sir,  my  legs  do 
fail  me  !  Be  thou  merciful  —  spare  me  this  doom, 
and  I  will  turn  my  back  and  see  nought  that  shall 
happen." 

"Good!  now  thou' rt  wise  and  reasonable.  And 
thou 'It  restore  the  pig?" 

"I  will,  I  will,  indeed  —  nor  ever  touch  another, 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  223 

though  heaven  send  it  and  an  archangel  fetch  it. 
Go  —  I  am  blind  for  thy  sake  —  I  see  nothing.  I 
will  say  thou  didst  break  in  and  wrest  the  prisoner 
from  my  hands  by  force.  It  is  but  a  crazy,  ancient 
door  —  I  will  batter  it  down  myself  betwixt  midnight 
and  the  morning." 

"  Do  it,  good  soul,  no  harm  will  come  of  it;  the 
judge  hath  a  loving  charity  for  this  poor  lad,  and 
will  shed  no  tears  and  break  no  jailor's  bones  for  his 
escape." 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

HENDON  HALL 

AS  soon  as  Hendon  and  the  king  were  out  of  sight 
of  the  constable,  his  majesty  was  instructed  to 
hurry  to  a  certain  place  outside  the  town,  and  wait 
there,  whilst  Hendon  should  go  to  the  inn  and  settle 
his  account.  Half  an  hour  later  the  two  friends 
were  blithely  jogging  eastward  on  Hendon 's  sorry 
steeds.  The  king  was  warm  and  comfortable  now, 
for  he  had  cast  his  rags  and  clothed  himself  in  the 
second-hand  suit  which  Hendon  had  bought  on 
London  Bridge. 

Hendon  wished  to  guard  against  over-fatiguing 
the  boy;  he  judged  that  hard  journeys,  irregular 
meals,  and  illiberal  measures  of  sleep  would  be  bad 
for  his  crazed  mind ;  while  rest,  regularity,  and 
moderate  exercise  would  be  pretty  sure  to  hasten 
its  cure ;  he  longed  to  see  the  stricken  intellect  made 
well  again  and  its  diseased  visions  driven  out  of  the 
tormented  little  head ;  therefore  he  resolved  to  move 
by  easy  stages  toward  the  home  whence  he  had  so 
long  been  banished,  instead  of  obeying  the  impulse 
of  his  impatience  and  hurrying  along  night  and  day. 

(224) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  225 

When  he  and  the  king  had  journeyed  about  ten 
miles,  they  reached  a  considerable  village,  and 
halted  there  for  the  night,  at  a  good  inn.  The 
former  relations  were  resumed ;  Hendon  stood  be 
hind  the  king's  chair  while  he  dined,  and  waited 
upon  him ;  undressed  him  when  he  was  ready  for 
bed ;  then  took  the  floor  for  his  own  quarters,  and 
slept  athwart  the  door,  rolled  up  in  a  blanket. 

The  next  day,  and  the  next  day  after,  they  jogged 
lazily  along  talking  over  the  adventures  they  had 
met  since  their  separation,  and  mightily  enjoying 
each  other's  narratives.  Hendon  detailed  all  his 
wide  wanderings  in  search  of  the  king,  and  de 
scribed  how  the  archangel  had  led  him  a  fool's 
journey  all  over  the  forest,  and  taken  him  back  to 
the  hut  finally,  when  he  found  he  could  not  get  rid 
of  him.  Then  —  he  said  —  the  old  man  went  into 
the  bedchamber  and  came  staggering  back  looking 
broken-hearted,  and  saying  he  had  expected  to  find 
that  the  boy  had  returned  and  lain  down  in  there  to 
rest,  but  it  was  not  so.  Hendon  had  waited  at  the 
hut  all  day;  hope  of  the  king's  return  died  out  then, 
and  he  departed  upon  the  quest  again. 

4 '  And  old  Sanctum  Sanctorum  was  truly  sorry 
your  Highness  came  not  back,"  said  Hendon;  "I 
saw  it  in  his  face." 

"  Marry,  I  will  never  doubt  that !"  said  the  king 
—  and  then  told  his  own  story ;  after  which  Hendon 
was  sorry  he  had  not  destroyed  the  archangel. 

During  the  last  day  of  the  trip,  Hendon 's  spirits 
15 


226  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

were  soaring.  His  tongue  ran  constantly.  He 
talked  about  his  old  father,  and  his  brother  Arthur, 
and  told  of  many  things  which  illustrated  their  high 
and  generous  characters ;  he  went  into  loving  fren 
zies  over  his  Edith,  and  was  so  glad-hearted  that  he 
was  even  able  to  say  some  gentle  and  brotherly 
things  about  Hugh.  He  dwelt  a  deal  on  the  coming 
meeting  at  Hendon  Hall ;  what  a  surprise  it  would 
be  to  everybody,  and  what  an  outburst  of  thanks 
giving  and  delight  there  would  be. 

It  was  a  fair  region,  dotted  with  cottages  and 
orchards,  and  the  road  led  through  broad  pasture 
lands  whose  receding  expanses,  marked  with  gentle 
elevations  and  depressions,  suggested  the  swelling 
and  subsiding  undulations  of  the  sea.  In  the  after 
noon  the  returning  prodigal  made  constant  deflec 
tions  from  his  course  to  see  if  by  ascending  some 
hillock  he  might  not  pierce  the  distance  and  catch  a 
glimpse  of  his  home.  At  last  he  was  successful, 
and  cried  out  excitedly : 

'  There  is  the  village,  my  prince,  and  there  is  the 
Hall  close  by  !  You  may  see  the  towers  from  here ; 
and  that  wood  there  —  that  is  my  father's  park. 
Ah,  now  thou'lt  know  what  state  and  grandeur  be! 
A  house  with  seventy  rooms  —  think  of  that !  —  and 
seven  and  twenty  servants !  A  brave  lodging  for 
such  as  we,  is  it  not  so?  Come,  let  us  speed  —  my 
impatience  will  not  brook  further  delay." 

All  possible  hurry  was  made;  still,  it  was  after 
three  o'clock  before  the  village  was  reached.  The 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  227 

travelers  scampered  through  it,  Hendon's  tongue 
going  all  the  time.  "  Here  is  the  church  —  covered 
with  the  same  ivy  —  none  gone,  none  added." 
"Yonder  is  the  inn,  the  old  Red  Lion, —  and  yon 
der  is  the  market  place."  '  Here  is  the  Maypole, 
and  here  the  pump  —  nothing  is  altered ;  nothing 
but  the  people,  at  any  rate ;  ten  years  make  a  change 
in  people ;  some  of  these  I  seem  to  know,  but 
none  know  me."  So  his  chat  ran  on.  The  end  of 
the  village  was  soon  reached ;  then  the  travelers 
struck  into  a  crooked,  narrow  road,  walled  in  with 
tall  hedges,  and  hurried  briskly  along  it  for  a  half 
mile,  then  passed  into  a  vast  flower  garden  through 
an  imposing  gateway  whose  huge  stone  pillars  bore 
sculptured  armorial  devices.  A  noble  mansion  was 
before  them. 

"Welcome  to  Hendon  Hall,  my  king!"  ex 
claimed  Miles.  "  Ah,  'tis  a  great  clay!  My  father 
and  my  brother  and  the  Lady  Edith  will  be  so  mad 
with  joy  that  they  will  have  eyes  and  tongue  for 
none  but  me  in  the  first  transports  of  the  meeting, 
and  so  thouTt  seem  but  coldly  welcomed  —  but 
mind  it  not;  'twill  soon  seem  otherwise ;  for  when 
I  say  thou  art  my  ward,  and  tell  them  how  costly  is 
my  love  for  thee,  thou 'It  see  them  take  thee  to  their 
breasts  for  Miles  Hendon's  sake,  and  make  their 
house  and  hearts  thy  home  forever  after!" 

The  next  moment  Hendon  sprang  to  the  ground 
before  the  great  door,  helped  the  king  down,  then 
took  him  by  the  hand  and  rushed  within,  A  few 


228  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

steps  brought  him  to  a  spacious  apartment ;  he  en 
tered,  seated  the  king  with  more  hurry  than  cere 
mony,  then  ran  toward  a  young  man  who  sat  at  a 
writing-table  in  front  of  a  generous  fire  of  logs. 

"Embrace  me,  Hugh,"  he  cried,  "and  say 
thou'rt  glad  I  am  come  again!  and  call  our  father, 
for  home  is  not  home  till  I  shall  touch  his  hand,  and 
see  his  face,  and  hear  his  voice  once  more !" 

But  Hugh  only  drew  back,  after  betraying  a 
momentary  surprise,  and  bent  a  grave  stare  upon 
the  intruder  —  a  stare  which  indicated  somewhat  of 
offended  dignity  at  first,  then  changed,  in  response 
to  some  inward  thought  or  purpose,  to  an  expression 
of  marveling  curiosity,  mixed  with  a  real  or  assumed 
compassion.  Presently  he  said,  in  a  mild  voice: 

"  Thy  wits  seem  touched,  poor  stranger;  doubt 
less  thou  hast  suffered  privations  and  rude  buffetings 
at  the  world's  hands;  thy  looks  and  dress  betoken 
it.  Whom  dost  thou  take  me  to  be?" 

"  Take  thee?  Prithee,  for  whom  else  than  whom 
thou  art?  I  take  thee  to  be  Hugh  Hendon,"  said 
Miles,  sharply. 

The  other  continued,  in  the  same  soft  tone: 

"  And  whom  dost  thou  imagine  thyself  to  be?" 

"Imagination  hath  nought  to  do  with  it !  Dost 
thou  pretend  thou  knowest  me  not  for  thy  brother 
Miles  Hendon?" 

An  expression  of  pleased  surprise  flitted  across 
Hugh's  face,  and  he  exclaimed: 

"  What!   thou  art  not  jesting?  can  the  dead  come 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  229 

to  life?  God  be  praised  if  it  be  so  !  Our  poor  lost 
boy  restored  to  our  arms  after  all  these  cruel  years ! 
Ah,  it  seems  too  good  to  be  true,  it  is  too  good  to 
be  true  —  I  charge  thee,  have  pity,  do  not  trifle 
with  me  !  Quick  —  come  to  the  light — let  me  scan 
thee  well ! ' ' 

He  seized  Miles  by  the  arm,  dragged  him  to  the 
window,  and  began  to  devour  him  from  head  to  foot 
with  his  eyes,  turning  him  this  way  and  that,  and 
stepping  briskly  around  him  and  about  him  to  prove 
him  from  all  points  of  view;  whilst  the  returned 
prodigal,  all  aglow  with  gladness,  smiled,  laughed, 
and  kept  nodding  his  head  and  saying: 

"Go  on,  brother,  go  on,  and  fear  not;  thou'lt 
find  nor  limb  nor  feature  that  cannot  bide  the  test. 
Scour  and  scan  me  to  thy  content,  my  dear  old 
Hugh  —  I  am  indeed  thy  old  Miles,  thy  same  old 
Miles,  thy  lost  brother,  is't  not  so?  Ah,  'tis  a  great 
day —  I  said  'twas  a  great  day  !  Give  me  thy  hand, 
give  me  thy  cheek  —  lord,  I  am  like  to  die  of  very 
joy!" 

He  was  about  to  throw  himself  upon  his  brother ; 
but  Hugh  put  up  his  hand  in  dissent,  then  dropped 
his  chin  mournfully  upon  his  breast,  saying  with 
emotion : 

s<  Ah,  God  of  his  mercy  give  me  strength  to  bear 
this  grievous  disappointment!" 

Miles,  amazed,  could  not  speak  for  a  moment; 
then  he  found  his  tongue,  and  cried  out: 

"  What  disappointment?    Am  I  not  thy  brother?" 


230  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

Hugh  shook  his  head  sadly,  and  said : 

"  I  pray  heaven  it  may  prove  so,  and  that  other 
eyes  may  find  the  resemblances  that  are  hid  from 
mine.  Alack,  I  fear  me  the  letter  spoke  but  too 
truly." 

"What  letter?" 

"  One  that  came  from  over  sea,  some  six  or  seven 
years  ago.  It  said  my  brother  died  in  battle." 

1 '  It  was  a  lie  !     Call  thy  father  —  he  will  know  me. ' ' 

11  One  may  not  call  the  dead." 

''Dead?"  Miles's  voice  was  subdued,  and  his 
lips  trembled.  "My  father  dead !— oh,  this  is 
heavy  news.  Half  my  new  joy  is  withered  now. 
Prithee,  let  me  see  rny  brother  Arthur  — he  will 
know  me;  he  will  know  me  and  console  me." 

"He,  also,  is  dead." 

"  God  be  merciful  to  me,  a  stricken  man  !     Gone, 

—  both  gone  —  the  worthy  taken  and  the  worthless 
spared  in  me  !     Ah  !   I  crave  your  mercy  !  —  do  not 
say  the  Lady  Edith  — 

"Is  dead?     No,  she  lives." 

'  Then,  God  be  praised,  my  joy  is  whole  again  ! 
Speed  thee,  brother —  let  her  come  to  me  !  An'  she 
say  I  am  not  myself,— but  she  will  not;  no,  no,  she 
will  know  me,  I  were  a  fool  to  doubt  it.  Bring  her 

—  bring  the  old  servants ;  they,  too,  will  know  me. ' ' 
"All   are   gone   but  five  —  Peter,  Halsey,  David, 

Bernard,  and  Margaret." 

So  saying,  Hugh  left  the  room.  Miles  stood  musing 
a  while,  then  began  to  walk  the  floor,  muttering: 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  231 

'  The  five  arch  villains  have  survived  the  two-and- 
twenty  leal  and  honest — -'tis  an  odd  thing." 

He  continued  walking  back  and  forth,  muttering 
to  himself;  he  had  forgotten  the  king  entirely.  By 
and  by  his  majesty  said  gravely,  and  with  a  touch  of 
genuine  compassion,  though  the  words  themselves 
were  capable  of  being  interpreted  ironically : 

"Mind  not  thy  mischance,  good  man;  there  be 
others  in  the  world  whose  identity  is  denied,  and 
whose  claims  are  derided.  Thou  hast  company." 

11  Ah,  my  king,"  cried  } Tendon,  coloring  slightly, 
"do  not  thou  condemn  me  —  wait,  and  thou  shalt 
see.  I  am  no  impostor  —  she  will  say  it;  you  shall 
hear  it  from  the  sweetest  lips  in  England.  I  an  im 
postor?  Why  I  know  this  old  hall,  these  pictures 
of  my  ancestors,  and  all  these  things  that  are  about 
us,  as  a  child  knoweth  its  own  nursery.  Here  was  I 
born  and  bred,  my  lord;  I  speak  the  truth;  I  would 
not  deceive  thee;  and  should  none  else  believe,  I 
pray  thee  do  not  thou  doubt  me  —  I  could  not  bear 
it." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  thee,"  said  the  king,  with  a 
childlike  simplicity  and  faith. 

"  I  thank  thee  out  of  my  heart!"  exclaimed  Hen- 
don,  with  a  fervency  which  showed  that  he  was 
touched.  The  king  added,  with  the  same  gentle 
simplicity: 

"  Dost  thou  doubt  me  ?" 

A  guilty  confusion  seized  upon  Hendon,  and  he 
was  grateful  that  the  door  opened  to  admit  Hugh, 


232  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

at   that   moment,  and    saved    him    the   necessity   of 
replying. 

A  beautiful  lady,  richly  clothed,  followed  Hugh, 
and   after   her  came  several  liveried  servants.     The 
lady  walked   slowly,  with   her   head   bowed  and   her 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  floor.     The  face  was  unspeak 
ably  sad.     Miles  Hendon  sprang  forward,  crying  out : 
44  Oh,  my  Edith,  my  darling  — 
But  Hugh  waved  him  back,  gravely,  and  said  to 
the  lady : 

14  Look  upon  him.  Do  you  know  him?" 
At  the  sound  of  Miles's  voice  the  woman  had 
started  slightly,  and  her  cheeks  had  flushed ;  she 
was  trembling  now.  She  stood  still,  during  an  im 
pressive  pause  of  several  moments;  then  slowly 
lifted  up  her  head  and  looked  into  Hendon's  eyes 
with  a  stony  and  frightened  gaze ;  the  blood  sank 
out  of  her  face,  drop  by  drop,  till  nothing  remained 
but  the  gray  pallor  of  death;  then  she  said,  in  a 
voice  as  dead  as  the  face,  4<  I  know  him  not!"  and 
turned,  with  a  moan  and  a  stifled  sob,  and  tottered 
out  of  the  room. 

Miles  Hendon  sank  into  a  chair  and  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands.  After  a  pause,  his  brother 
said  to  the  servants : 

44  You  have  observed  him.     Do  you  know  him?" 
They  shook  their  heads ;   then  the  master  said : 
44  The  servants  know  you  not,  sir.     I  fear  there  is 
some  mistake.     You  have  seen  that  my  wife  knew 
you  not." 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  233 

11  Thy  wife  /"  In  an  instant  Hugh  was  pinned 
to  the  wall,  with  an  iron  grip  about  his  throat. 
"  Oh,  thou  fox-hearted  slave,  I  see  it  all!  Thou'st 
writ  the  lying  letter  thyself,  and  my  stolen  bride  and 
goods  are  its  fruit.  There  —  now  get  thee  gone,  lest 
I  shame  mine  honorable  soldiership  with  the  slaying 
of  so  pitiful  a  manikin  !" 

Hugh,  red-faced  and  almost  suffocated,  reeled  to 
the  nearest  chair,  and  commanded  the  servants  to 
seize  and  bind  the  murderous  stranger.  They  hesi 
tated,  and  one  of  them  said  : 

"  He  is  armed,  Sir  Hugh,  and  we  are  weapon 
less." 

"  Armed?  What  of  it,  and  ye  so  many?  Upon 
him,  I  say !" 

But  Miles  warned  them  to  be  careful  what  they 
did,  and  added  : 

"Ye  know  me  of  old  —  I  have  not  changed; 
come  on,  an'  it  like  you." 

This  reminder  did  not  hearten  the  servants  much ; 
they  still  held  back. 

"  Then  go,  ye  paltry  cowards,  and  arm  yourselves 
and  guard  the  doors,  while  I  send  one  to  fetch  the 
watch;"  said  Hugh.  He  turned,  at  the  threshold, 
and  said  to  Miles,  "  You'll  find  it  to  your  advantage 
to  offend  not  with  useless  endeavors  at  escape." 

"Escape?  Spare  thyself  discomfort,  an'  that  is 
all  that  troubles  thee.  For  Miles  Hendon  is  master 
of  Hendon  Hall  and  all  its  belongings.  He  will  re 
main —  doubt  it  not." 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

DISOWNED 

THE  king  sat  musing  a  few  moments,  then  looked 
up  and  said : 

'Tis  strange — most  strange.     I  cannot  account 
for  it." 

"No,  it  is  not  strange,  my  liege.  I  know  him, 
and  this  conduct  is  but  natural.  He  was  a  rascal 
from  his  birth." 

"  Oh,  I  spake  not  of  him,  Sir  Miles." 

"Not  of  him?  Then  of  what?  What  is  it  that 
is  strange?" 

"  That  the  king  is  not  missed." 

"  How?    Which?    I  doubt  I  do  not  understand." 

"  Indeed  !  Doth  it  not  strike  you  as  being  pass 
ing  strange  that  the  land  is  not  filled  with  couriers 
and  proclamations  describing  my  person  and  making 
search  for  me?  Is  it  no  matter  for  commotion  and 
distress  that  the  head  of  the  state  is  gone  ?  —  that  I 
am  vanished  away  and  lost?" 

"Most  true,  my  king,  I  had  forgot."  Then 
Hendon  sighed,  and  muttered  to  himself,  "  Poor 
ruined  mind  —  still  busy  with  its  pathetic  dream." 

(234) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  235 

"  But  I  have  a  plan  that  shall  right  us  both.  I 
will  write  a  paper,  in  three  tongues  —  Latin,  Greek, 
and  English  —  and  thou  shalt  haste  away  with  it  to 
London  in  the  morning.  Give  it  to  none  but  my 
uncle,  the  Lord  Hertford ;  when  he  shall  see  it,  he 
will  know  and  say  I  wrote  it.  Then  he  will  send 
for  me." 

'  Might  it  not  be  best,  my  prince,  that  we  wait 
here  until  I  prove  myself  and  make  my  rights  secure 
to  rny  domains?  I  should  be  so  much  the  better 
able  then  to — " 

The  king  interrupted  him  imperiously: 

"Peace!  What  are  thy  paltry  domains,  thy 
trivial  interests,  contrasted  with  matters  which  con 
cern  the  weal  of  a  nation  and  the  integrity  of  a 
throne!"  Then  he  added,  in  a  gentle  voice,  as  if 
he  were  sorry  for  his  severity,  "  Obey  and  have  no 
fear;  I  will  right  thee,  I  will  make  thee  whole  —  yes, 
more  than  whole.  I  shall  remember,  and  requite." 

So  saying,  he  took  the  pen,  and  set  himself  to 
work.  Hendon  contemplated  him  lovingly  a  while, 
then  said  to  himself : 

"  An'  it  were  dark,  I  should  think  it  was  a  king 
that  spoke;  there's  no  denying  it,  when  the  humor's 
upon  him  he  doth  thunder  and  lighten  like  your  true 
king  —  now  where  got  he  that  trick?  See  him 
scribble  and  scratch  away  contentedly  at  his  mean 
ingless  pot-hooks,  fancying  them  to  be  Latin  and 
Greek  —  and  except  my  wit  shall  serve  me  with  a 
lucky  device  for  diverting  him  from  his  purpose,  I 


236  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

shall  be  forced  to  pretend  to  post  away  to-morrow 
on  this  wild  errand  he  hath  invented  for  me." 

The  next  moment  Sir  Miles's  thoughts  had  gone 
back  to  the  recent  episode.  So  absorbed  was  he  in 
his  musings,  that  when  the  king  presently  handed 
him  the  paper  which  he  had  been  writing,  he  re 
ceived  it  and  pocketed  it  without  being  conscious  of 
the  act.  "  How  marvelous  strange  she  acted,"  he 
muttered.  "I  think  she  knew  me  —  and  I  think 
she  did  not  know  me.  These  opinions  do  conflict,  I 
perceive  it  plainly;  I  cannot  reconcile  them,  neither 
can  I,  by  argument,  dismiss  either  of  the  two,  or 
even  persuade  one  to  outweigh  the  other.  The 
matter  standeth  simply  thus :  she  must  have  known 
my  face,  my  figure,  my  voice,  for  how  could  it  be 
otherwise?  yet  she  said  she  knew  me  not,  and  that 
is  proof  perfect,  for  she  cannot  lie.  But  stop  —  I 
think  I  begin  to  see.  Peradventure  he  hath  influ 
enced  her  —  commanded  her  —  compelled  her  to  lie. 
That  is  the  solution !  The  riddle  is  unriddled.  She 
seemed  dead  with  fear  —  yes,  she  was  under  his 
compulsion.  I  will  seek  her;  I  will  find  her;  now 
that  he  is  away,  she  will  speak  her  true  mind.  She 
will  remember  the  old  times  when  we  were  little 
playfellows  together,  and  this  will  soften  her  heart, 
and  she  will  no  more  betray  me,  but  will  confess 
me.  There  is  no  treacherous  blood  in  her  —  no, 
she  was  always  honest  and  true.  She  has  loved  me 
in  those  old  days  —  this  is  my  security ;  for  whom 
one  has  loved,  one  cannot  betray." 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  237 

He  stepped  eagerly  toward  the  door ;  at  that  mo 
ment  it  opened,  and  the  Lady  Edith  entered.  She 
was  very  pale,  but  she  walked  with  a  firm  step,  and 
her  carriage  was  full  of  grace  and  gentle  dignity. 
Her  face  was  as  sad  as  before. 

Miles  sprang  forward,  with  a  happy  confidence, 
to  meet  her,  but  she  checked  him  with  a  hardly 
perceptible  gesture,  and  he  stopped  where  he  was. 
She  seated  herself,  and  asked  him  to  do  likewise. 
Thus  simply  did  she  take  the  sense  of  old-comrade 
ship  out  of  him,  and  transform  him  into  a  stranger 
and  a  guest.  The  surprise  of  it,  the  bewildering 
unexpectedness  of  it,  made  him  begin  to  question, 
for  a  moment,  if  he  was  the  person  he  was  pretend 
ing  to  be,  after  all.  The  Lady  Edith  said : 

"  Sir,  I  have  come  to  warn  you.  The  mad  can 
not  be  persuaded  out  of  their  delusions,  perchance; 
but  doubtless  they  may  be  persuaded  to  avoid  perils. 
I  think  this  dream  of  yours  hath  the  seeming  of 
honest  truth  to  you,  and  therefore  is  not  criminal  — 
but  do  not  tarry  here  with  it ;  for  here  it  is  danger 
ous/'  She  looked  steadily  into  Miles's  face  a  mo 
ment,  then  added,  impressively,  "  It  is  the  more 
dangerous  for  that  you  are  much  like  what  our  lost 
lad  must  have  grown  to  be,  if  he  had  lived." 

"  Heavens,  madam,  but  I  am  he!  " 

"  I  truly  think  you  think  it,  sir.  I  question  not 
your  honesty  in  that  —  I  but  warn  you,  that  is  all. 
My  husband  is  master  in  this  region;  his  power 
hath  hardly  any  limit;  the  people  prosper  or  starve, 

x<5 


238  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

as  he  wills.  If  you  resembled  not  the  man  whom 
you  profess  to  be,  my  husband  might  bid  you 
pleasure  yourself  with  your  dream  in  peace;  but 
trust  me,  I  know  him  well,  I  know  what  he  will  do; 
he  will  say  to  all  that  you  are  but  a  mad  impostor, 
and  straightway  all  will  echo  him."  She  bent  upon 
Miles  that  same  steady  look  once  more,  and  added : 
44  If  you  were  Miles  Hendon,  and  he  knew  it  and  all 
the  region  knew  it — consider  what  I  am  saying, 
weigh  it  well  —  you  would  stand  in  the  same  peril, 
your  punishment  would  be  no  less  sure ;  he  would 
deny  you  and  denounce  you,  and  none  would  be 
bold  enough  to  give  you  countenance." 

"Most  truly  I  believe  it,"  said  Miles,  bitterly. 
'The  power  that  can  command  one  lifelong  friend 
to  betray  and  disown  another,  and  be  obeyed,  may 
well  look  to  be  obeyed  in  quarters  where  bread  and 
life  are  on  the  stake  and  no  cobweb  ties  of  loyalty 
and  honor  are  concerned." 

A  faint  tinge  appeared  for  a  moment  in  the  lady's 
cheek,  and  she  dropped  her  eyes  to  the  floor;  but 
her  voice  betrayed  no  emotion  when  she  proceeded : 

"  I  have  warned  you,  I  must  still  warn  you,  to  go 
hence.  This  man  will  destroy  you  else.  He  is  a 
tyrant  who  knows  no  pity.  I,  who  am  his  fettered 
slave,  know  this.  Poor  Miles,  and  Arthur,  and  my 
dear  guardian,  Sir  Richard,  are  free  of  him,  and  at 
rest  —  better  that  you  were  with  them  than  that  you 
bide  here  in  the  clutches  of  this  miscreant.  Your 
pretensions  are  a  menace  to  his  title  and  possessions ; 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  239 

you  have  assaulted  him  in  his  own  house  —  you  are 
ruined  if  you  stay.  Go  —  do  not  hesitate.  If  you 
lack  money,  take  this  purse,  I  beg  of  you,  and 
bribe  the  servants  to  let  you  pass.  Oh,  be  warned, 
poor  soul,  and  escape  while  you  may." 

Miles  declined  the  purse  with  a  gesture,  and  rose 
up  and  stood  before  her. 

"  Grant  me  one  thing,"  he  said.  '*  Let  your  eyes 
rest  upon  mine,  so  that  I  may  see  if  they  be  steady. 
There  —  now  answer  me.  Am  I  Miles  Hendon?" 

4 'No.     I  know  you  not." 

"Swear  it!" 

The  answer  was  low,  but  distinct : 

"I  swear." 

"Oh,  this  passes  belief!" 

"Fly!  Why  will  you  waste  the  precious  time? 
Fly  and  save  yourself." 

At  that  moment  the  officers  burst  into  the  room 
and  a  violent  struggle  began ;  but  Hendon  was  soon 
overpowered  and  dragged  away.  The  king  was 
taken  also,  and  both  were  bound  and  led  to  prison. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

IN  PRISON 

THE  cells  were  all  crowded ;  so  the  two  friends 
were  chained  in  a  large  room  where  persons 
charged  with  trifling  offenses  were  commonly  kept. 
They  had  company,  for  there  were  some  twenty 
manacled  or  fettered  prisoners  here,  of  both  sexes 
and  of  varying  ages, —  an  obscene  and  noisy  gang. 
The  king  chafed  bitterly  over  the  stupendous  indig 
nity  thus  put  upon  his  royalty,  but  Hendon  was 
moody  and  taciturn.  He  was  pretty  thoroughly 
bewildered.  He  had  come  home,  a  jubilant  prodi 
gal,  expecting  to  find  everybody  wild  with  joy  over 
his  return;  and  instead  had  got  the  cold  shoulder 
and  a  jail.  The  promise  and  the  fulfilment  differed 
so  widely,  that  the  effect  was  stunning;  he  could 
not  decide  whether  it  was  most  tragic  or  most 
grotesque.  He  felt  much  as  a  man  might  who  had 
danced  blithely  out  to  enjoy  a  rainbow,  and  got 
struck  by  lightning. 

But  gradually  his  confused  and  tormenting 
thoughts  settled  down  into  some  sort  of  order,  and 
then  his  mind  centered  itself  upon  Edith.  He  turned 

(240) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  241 

her  conduct  over,  and  examined  it  in  all  lights,  but 
he  could  not  make  anything  satisfactory  out  of  it. 
Did  she  know  him?  —  or  didn't  she  know  him?  It 
was  a  perplexing  puzzle,  and  occupied  him  a  long 
time;  but  he  ended,  finally,  with  the  conviction  that 
she  did  know  him,  and  had  repudiated  him  for 
interested  reasons.  He  wanted  to  load  her  name 
with  curses  now;  but  this  name  had  so  long  been 
sacred  to  him  that  he  found  he  could  not  bring  his 
tongue  to  profane  it. 

Wrapped  in  prison  blankets  of  a  soiled  and  tat 
tered  condition,  Hendon  and  the  king  passed  a 
troubled  night.  For  a  bribe  the  jailer  had  furnished 
liquor  to  some  of  the  prisoners ;  singing  of  ribald 
songs,  fighting,  shouting,  and  carousing,  was  the 
natural  consequence.  At  last,  a  while  after  mid 
night,  a  man  attacked  a  woman  and  nearly  killed 
her  by  beating  her  over  the  head  with  his  manacles 
before  the  jailer  could  come  to  the  rescue.  The 
jailer  restored  peace  by  giving  the  man  a  sound 
clubbing  about  the  head  and  shoulders  —  then  the 
carousing  ceased ;  and  after  that,  all  had  an  oppor 
tunity  to  sleep  who  did  not  mind  the  annoyance  of 
the  meanings  and  groanings  of  the  two  wounded 
people. 

During  the  ensuing  week,  the  days  and  nights 
were  of  a  monotonous  sameness,  as  to  events;  men 
whose  faces  Hendon  remembered  more  or  less  dis 
tinctly  came,  by  day,  to  gaze  at  the  "impostor" 
and  repudiate  and  insult  him;  and  by  night  the 
16 


242  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

carousing  and  brawling  went  on,  with  symmetrical 
regularity.  However,  there  was  a  change  of  inci 
dent  at  last.  The  jailer  brought  in  an  old  man,  and 
said  to  him : 

1  The  villain  is   in  this  room  —  cast  thy  old  eyes 
about  and  see  if  thou  canst  say  which  is  he." 

Hendon  glanced  up,  and  experienced  a  pleasant 
sensation  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  been  in  the 
jail.  He  said  to  himself,  "  This  is  Blake  Andrews, 
a  servant  all  his  life  in  my  father's  family  —  a  good 
honest  soul,  with  a  right  heart  in  his  breast.  That 
is,  formerly.  But  none  are  true  now;  all  are  liars. 
This  man  will  know  me  —  and  will  deny  me,  too, 
like  the  rest." 

The  old  man  gazed  around  the  room,  glanced  at 
each  face  in  turn,  and  finally  said : 

"  I  see  none  here  but  paltry  knaves,  scum  o'  the 
streets.  Which  is  he?" 

The  jailer  laughed. 

"Here,"  he  said;  "scan  this  big  animal,  and 
grant  me  an  opinion." 

The  old  man  approached,  and  looked  Hendon 
over,  long  and  earnestly,  then  shook  his  head  and 
said: 

"  Marry,  this  is  no  Hendon  —  nor  ever  was!" 

"Right!  Thy  old  eyes  are  sound  yet.  An'  I 
were  Sir  Hugh,  I  would  take  the  shabby  carle 
and—" 

The  jailer  finished  by  lifting  himself  a-tip-toe  with 
an  imaginary  halter,  at  the  same  time  making  a 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  24) 

gurgling  noise  in  his  throat  suggestive  of  suffocation. 
The  old  man  said,  vindictively: 

"  Let  him  bless  God  an'  he  fare  no  worse.  An' 
/had  the  handling  o'  the  villain,  he  should  roast,  or 
I  am  no  true  man  ! ' ' 

The  jailer  laughed  a  pleasant  hyena  laugh,  and 
said: 

"  Give  him  a  piece  of  thy  mind,  old  man  —  they 
all  do  it.  Thou'lt  find  it  good  diversion." 

Then  he  sauntered  toward  his  anteroom  and  dis 
appeared.  The  old  man  dropped  upon  his  knees 
and  whispered : 

"  God  be  thanked,  thou'rt  come  again,  my  mas 
ter  !  I  believed  thou  wert  dead  these  seven  years, 
and  lo,  here  thou  art  alive !  I  knew  thee  the  mo 
ment  I  saw  thee ;  and  main  hard  work  it  was  to 
keep  a  stony  countenance  and  seem  to  see  none 
here  but  tuppenny  knaves  and  rubbish  o'  the  streets. 
I  am  old  and  poor,  Sir  Miles ;  but  say  the  word  and 
I  will  go  forth  and  proclaim  the  truth  though  I  be 
strangled  for  it." 

"  No,"  said  Hendon,  "  thou  shalt  not.  It  would 
ruin  thee,  and  yet  help  but  little  in  my  cause.  But 
I  thank  thee ;  for  thou  hast  given  me  back  some 
what  of  my  lost  faith  in  my  kind." 

The  old  servant  became  very  valuable  to  Hendon 
and  the  king;  for  he  dropped  in  several  times  a  day 
to  "  abuse"  the  former,  and  always  smuggled  in  a 
few  delicacies  to  help  out  the  prison  bill  of  fare ;  he 
also  furnished  the  current  news.  Hendon  reserved 


244  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

the  dainties  for  the  king ;  without  them  his  majesty 
might  not  have  survived,  for  he  was  not  able  to  eat 
the  coarse  and  wretched  food  provided  by  the  jailer. 
Andrews  was  obliged  to  confine  himself  to  brief 
visits,  in  order  to  avoid  suspicion ;  but  he  managed 
to  impart  a  fair  degree  of  information  each  time  — 
information  delivered  in  a  low  voice,  for  Hendon's 
benefit,  and  interlarded  with  insulting  epithets  de 
livered  in  a  louder  voice,  for  the  benefit  of  other 
hearers. 

So,  little  by  little,  the  story  of  the  family  came 
out.  Arthur  had  been  dead  six  years.  This  loss, 
with  the  absence  of  news  from  Hendon,  impaired 
the  father's  health;  he  believed  he  was  going  to 
die,  and  he  wished  to  see  Hugh  and  Edith  settled  in 
life  before  he  passed  away;  but  Edith  begged  hard 
for  delay,  hoping  for  Miles's  return;  then  the  letter 
came  which  brought  the  news  of  Miles's  death;  the 
shock  prostrated  Sir  Richard ;  he  believed  his  end 
was  very  near,  and  he  and  Hugh  insisted  upon  the 
marriage;  Edith  begged  for  and  obtained  a  month's 
respite ;  then  another,  and  finally  a  third ;  the  mar 
riage  then  took  place,  by  the  deathbed  of  Sir 
Richard.  It  had  not  proved  a  happy  one.  It  was 
whispered  about  the  country  that  shortly  after  the 
nuptials  the  bride  found  among  her  husband's 
papers  several  rough  and  incomplete  drafts  of  the 
fatal  letter,  and  had  accused  him  of  precipitating  the 
marriage  —  and  Sir  Richard's  death,  too  —  by  a 
wicked  forgery.  Tales  of  cruelty  to  the  Lady  Edith 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  245 

and  the  servants  were  to  be  heard  on  all  hands ;  and 
since  the  father's  death  Sir  Hugh  had  thrown  off  all 
soft  disguises  and  become  a  pitiless  master  toward 
all  who  in  any  way  depended  upon  him  and  his 
domains  for  bread. 

There  was  a  bit  of  Andrews's  gossip  which  the 
king  listened  to  with  a  lively  interest : 

"There  is  rumor  that  the  king  is  mad.  But  in 
charity  forbear  to  say  7  mentioned  it,  for  'tis  death 
to  speak  of  it,  they  say." 

His  majesty  glared  at  the  old  man  and  said : 
'The  king  is  not  mad,  good  man  —  and  thou'lt 
find  it  to  thy  advantage  to  busy  thyself  with  matters 
that  nearer  concern  thee  than  this  seditious  prattle." 

1  *  What  doth  the  lad  mean?"  said  Andrews,  sur 
prised  at  this  brisk  assault  from  such  an  unexpected 
quarter.  Hendon  gave  him  a  sign,  and  he  did  not 
pursue  his  question,  but  went  on  with  his  budget: 

'  The  late  king  is  to  be  buried  at  Windsor  in  a 
day  or  two  —  the  i6th  of  the  month, —  and  the  new 
king  will  be  crowned  at  Westminster  the  2Oth." 

"  Methinks  they  must  needs  find  him  first,"  mut 
tered  his  majesty;  then  added,  confidently,  "  but 
they  will  look  to  that  —  and  so  also  shall  I.'" 

"  In  the  name  of — " 

But  the  old  man  got  no  further  —  a  warning  sign 
from  Hendon  checked  his  remark.  He  resumed  the 
thread  of  his  gossip. 

"Sir  Hugh  goeth  to  the  coronation  —  and  with 
grand  hopes.  He  confidently  looketh  to  come  back 


246  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

a  peer,  for  he  is  high  in  favor  with  the  Lord  Pro 
tector." 

"  What  Lord  Protector?"   asked  his  majesty. 

"His  grace  the  Duke  of  Somerset." 

"  What  Duke  of  Somerset?" 

41  Marry,  there  is  but  one  —  Seymour.  Earl  of 
Hertford." 

The  king  asked,  sharply: 

"  Since  when  is  he  a  duke,  and  Lord  Protector?" 

11  Since  the  last  day  of  January." 

"  And,  prithee,  who  made  him  so?" 

"Himself  and  the  Great  Council  —  with  help  of 
the  king." 

His  majesty  started  violently.  "The  £/«£•/"  he 
cried.  '  What  king,  good  sir?" 

"  What  king,  indeed  !  (God-a-mercy,  what  aileth 
the  boy?)  Sith  we  have  but  one,  'tis  not  difficult 
to  answer  —  his  most  sacred  majesty  King  Edward 
the  Sixth- — whom  God  preserve!  Yea,  and  a  dear 
and  gracious  little  urchin  is  he,  too ;  and  v/hether 
he  be  mad  or  no  —  and  they  say  he  mendeth  daily 
—  his  praises  are  on  all  men's  lips;  and  all  bless 
him  likewise,  and  offer  prayers  that  he  may  be 
spared  to  reign  long  in  England ;  for  he  began 
humanely,  with  saving  the  old  Duke  of  Norfolk's 
life,  and  now  is  he  bent  on  destroying  the  crudest 
of  the  laws  that  harry  and  oppress  the  people." 

This  news  struck  his  majesty  dumb  with  amaze 
ment,  and  plunged  him  into  so  deep  and  dismal  a 
revery  that  he  heard  no  more  of  the  old  man's 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  247 

gossip.  He  wondered  if  the  "  little  urchin"  was 
the  beggar-boy  whom  he  left  dressed  in  his  own 
garments  in  the  palace.  It  did  not  seem  possible 
that  this  could  be,  for  surely  his  manners  and  speech 
would  betray  him  if  he  pretended  to  be  the  Prince 
of  Wales  —  then  he  would  be  driven  out,  and  search 
made  for  the  true  prince.  Could  it  be  that  the  court 
had  set  up  some  sprig  of  the  nobility  in  his  place? 
No,  for  his  uncle  would  not  allow  that  —  he  was  all- 
powerful  and  could  and  would  crush  such  a  move 
ment,  of  course.  The  boy's  musings  profited  him 
nothing;  the  more  he  tried  to  unriddle  the  mystery 
the  more  perplexed  he  became,  the  more  his  head 
ached,  and  the  worse  he  slept.  His  impatience  to 
get  to  London  grew  hourly,  and  his  captivity  became 
almost  unendurable. 

Hendon's  arts  all  failed  with  the  king  —  he  could 
not  be  comforted,  but  a  couple  of  women  who  were 
chained  near  him,  succeeded  better.  Under  their 
gentle  ministrations  he  found  peace  and  learned  a 
degree  of  patience.  He  was  very  grateful,  and  came 
to  love  them  dearly  and  to  delight  in  the  sweet  and 
soothing  influence  of  their  presence.  He  asked 
them  why  they  were  in  prison,  and  when  they  said 
they  were  Baptists,  he  smiled,  and  inquired: 

"  Is  that  a  crime  to  be  shut  up  for  in  a  prison? 
Now  I  grieve,  for  I  shall  lose  ye  —  they  will  not 
keep  ye  long  for  such  a  little  thing." 

They  did  not  answer;  and  something  in  their 
faces  made  him  uneasy.  He  said,  eagerly: 


248  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"You  do  not  speak  —  be  good  to  me,  and  tell 
me  —  there  will  be  no  other  punishment?  Prithee, 
tell  me  there  is  no  fear  of  that." 

They  tried  to  change  the  topic,  but  his  fears  were 
aroused,  and  he  pursued  it: 

14  Will  they  scourge  thee?  No,  no,  they  would 
not  be  so  cruel !  Say  they  would  not.  Come,  they 
will  not,  will  they?" 

The  women  betrayed  confusion  and  distress,  but 
there  was  no  avoiding  an  answer,  so  one  of  them 
said,  in  a  voice  choked  with  emotion: 

"  Oh,  thou'lt  break  our  hearts,  thou  gentle  spirit! 
God  will  help  us  to  bear  our  — 

4 '  It  is  a  confession  !"  the  king  broke  in.  "  Then 
they  will  scourge  thee,  the  stony-hearted  wretches ! 
But  oh,  thou  must  not  weep,  I  cannot  bear  it. 
Keep  up  thy  courage  —  I  shall  come  to  my  own  in 
time  to  save  thee  from  this  bitter  thing,  and  I  will 
do  it!" 

When  the  king  awoke  in  the  morning,  the  women 
were  gone. 

11  They  are  saved  !"  he  said,  joyfully;  then  added, 
despondently,  "  but  woe  is  me  !  — for  they  were  my 
comforters." 

Each  of  them  had  left  a  shred  of  ribbon  pinned  to 
his  clothing,  in  token  of  remembrance.  He  said  he 
would  keep  these  things  always ;  and  that  soon  he 
would  seek  out  these  dear  good  friends  of  his  and 
take  them  under  his  protection. 

Just  then  the  jailer  came  in  with  some  subordinates 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  249 

and  commanded  that  the  prisoners  be  conducted  to 
the  jail-yard.  The  king  was  overjoyed  —  it  would 
be  a  blessed  thing  to  see  the  blue  sky  and  breathe 
the  fresh  air  once  more.  He  fretted  and  chafed  at 
the  slowness  of  the  officers,  but  his  turn  came  at 
last  and  he  was  released  from  his  staple  and  ordered 
to  follow  the  other  prisoners,  with  Hendon. 

The  court,  or  quadrangle,  was  stone-paved,  and 
open  to  the  sky.  The  prisoners  entered  it  through 
a  massive  archway  of  masonry,  and  were  placed  in 
file,  standing,  with  their  backs  against  the  wall.  A 
rope  was  stretched  in  front  of  them,  and  they  were 
also  guarded  by  their  officers.  It  was  a  chill  and 
lowering  morning,  and  a  light  snow  which  had  fallen 
during  the  night  whitened  the  great  empty  space 
and  added  to  the  general  dismalness  of  its  aspect. 
Now  and  then  a  wintry  wind  shivered  through  the 
place  and  sent  the  snow  eddying  hither  and  thither. 

In  the  center  of  the  court  stood  two  women, 
chained  to  posts.  A  glance  showed  the  king  that 
these  were  his  good  friends.  He  shuddered,  and 
said  to  himself,  "  Alack,  they  are  not  gone  free,  as 
I  had  thought.  To  think  that  such  as  these  should 
know  the  lash!  —  in  England!  Ay,  there's  the 
shame  of  it  —  not  in  Heathenesse,  but  Christian 
England!  They  will  be  scourged;  and  I,  whom 
they  have  comforted  and  kindly  entreated,  must 
look  on  and  see  the  great  wrong  done ;  it  is  strange, 
so  strange!  that  I,  the  very  source  of  power  in  this 
broad  realm,  am  helpless  to  protect  them.  But  let 


250  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

these  miscreants  look  well  to  themselves,  for  there 
is  a  day  coming  when  I  will  require  of  them  a  heavy 
reckoning  for  this  work.  For  every  blow  they  strike 
now  they  shall  feel  a  hundred  then." 

A  great  gate  swung  open  and  a  crowd  of  citizens 
poured  in.  They  flocked  around  the  two  women, 
and  hid  them  from  the  king's  view.  A  clergyman 
entered  and  passed  through  the  crowd,  and  he  also 
was  hidden.  The  king  now  heard  talking,  back  and 
forth,  as  if  questions  were  being  asked  and  answered, 
but  he  could  not  make  out  what  was  said.  Next 
there  was  a  deal  of  bustle  and  preparation,  and 
much  passing  and  repassing  of  officials  through  that 
part  of  the  crowd  that  stood  on  the  further  side  of 
the  women ;  and  while  this  proceeded  a  deep  hush 
gradually  fell  upon  the  people. 

Now,  by  command,  the  masses  parted  and  fell 
aside,  and  the  king  saw  a  spectacle  that  froze  the 
marrow  in  his  bones.  Fagots  had  been  piled  about 
the  two  women,  and  a  kneeling  man  was  lighting 
them! 

The  women  bowed  their  heads,  and  covered  their 
faces  with  their  hands ;  the  yellow  flames  began  to 
climb  upward  among  the  snapping  and  crackling 
fagots,  and  wreaths  of  blue  smoke  to  stream  away 
on  the  wind ;  the  clergyman  lifted  his  hands  and 
began  a  prayer  —  just  then  two  young  girls  came 
flying  through  the  great  gate,  uttering  piercing 
screams,  and  threw  themselves  upon  the  women  at 
the  stake.  Instantly  they  were  torn  away  by  the 


The  F'lince  and  the  Pauper  251 

officers,  and  one  of  them  was  kept  in  a  tight  grip, 
but  the  other  broke  loose,  saying  she  would  die  with 
her  mother;  and  before  she  could  be  stopped  she 
had  flung  her  arms  about  her  mother's  neck  again. 
She  was  torn  away  once  more,  and  with  her  gown 
on  fire.  Two  or  three  men  held  her,  and  the  burn 
ing  portion  of  her  gown  was  snatched  off  and  thrown 
flaming  aside,  she  struggling  all  the  while  to  free 
herself,  and  saying  she  would  be  alone  in  the  world 
now,  and  begging  to  be  allowed  to  die  with  her 
mother.  Both  the  girls  screamed  continually,  and 
fought  for  freedom ;  but  suddenly  this  tumult  was 
drowned  under  a  volley  of  heart-piercing  shrieks  of 
mortal  agony.  The  king  glanced  from  the  frantic 
girls  to  the  stake,  then  turned  away  and  leaned  his 
ashen  face  against  the  wall,  and  looked  no  more. 
He  said,  "  That  which  I  have  seen,  in  that  one  little 
moment,  will  never  go  out  from  my  memory,  but 
will  abide  there;  and  I  shall  see  it  all  the  days,  and 
dream  of  it  all  the  nights,  till  I  die.  Would  God  I 
had  been  blind!" 

Hendon  was  watching  the  king.  He  said  to  him 
self,  with  satisfaction,  "His  disorder  mendeth;  he 
hath  changed,  and  groweth  gentler.  If  he  had  fol 
lowed  his  wont,  he  would  have  stormed  at  these 
varlets,  and  said  he  was  king,  and  commanded  that 
the  women  be  turned  loose  unscathed.  Soon  his 
delusion  will  pass  away  and  be  forgotten,  and  his 
poor  mind  will  be  whole  again.  God  speed  the  day  !" 

That  same  day  several  prisoners  were  brought  in 


252  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

to  remain  over  night,  who  were  being  conveyed, 
under  guard,  to  various  places  in  the  kingdom,  to 
undergo  punishment  for  crimes  committed.  The 
king  conversed  with  these, —  he  had  made  it  a  point, 
from  the  beginning,  to  instruct  himself  for  the 
kingly  office  by  questioning  prisoners  whenever  the 
opportunity  offered  —  and  the  tale  of  their  woes 
wrung  his  heart.  One  of  them  was  a  poor  half 
witted  woman  who  had  stolen  a  yard  or  two  of 
cloth  from  a  weaver  —  she  was  to  be  hanged  for  it. 
Another  was  a  man  who  had  been  accused  of  steal 
ing  a  horse;  he  said  the  proof  had  failed,  and  he 
had  imagined  that  he  was  safe  from  the  halter;  but 
no  —  he  was  hardly  free  before  he  was  arraigned  for 
killing  a  deer  in  the  king's  park;  this  was  proved 
against  him,  and  now  he  was  on  his  way  to  the 
gallows.  There  was  a  tradesman's  apprentice  whose 
case  particularly  distressed  the  king;  this  youth  said 
he  found  a  hawk  one  evening  that  had  escaped  from 
its  owner,  and  he  took  it  home  with  him,  imagining 
himself  entitled  to  it ;  but  the  court  convicted  him 
of  stealing  it,  and  sentenced  him  to  death. 

The  king  was  furious  over  these  inhumanities, 
and  wanted  Hendon  to  break  jail  and  fly  with  him 
to  Westminster,  so  that  he  could  mount  his  throne 
and  hold  out  his  scepter  in  mercy  over  these  unfor 
tunate  people  and  save  their  lives.  "  Poor  child," 
sighed  Hendon,  "  these  woful  tales  have  brought  his 
malady  upon  him  again  —  alack,  but  for  this  evil 
hap,  he  would  have  been  well  in  a  little  time." 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  253 

Among  these  prisoners  was  an  old  lawyer  —  a 
man  with  a  strong  face  and  a  dauntless  mien.  Three 
years  past,  he  had  written  a  pamphlet  against  the 
Lord  Chancellor,  accusing  him  of  injustice,  and  had 
been  punished  for  it  by  the  loss  of  his  ears  in  the 
pillory  and  degradation  from  the  bar,  and  in  addi 
tion  had  been  fined  £3,000  and  sentenced  to  im 
prisonment  for  life.  Lately  he  had  repeated  his 
offense ;  and  in  consequence  was  now  under  sen 
tence  to  lose  what  remained  of  his  ears,  pay  a  fine 
of  £5,000,  be  branded  on  both  cheeks,  and  remain 
in  prison  for  life. 

1  These  be  honorable  scars,"  he  said,  and  turned 
back  his  gray  hair  and  showed  the  mutilated  stubs 
of  what  had  once  been  his  ears. 

The  king's  eye  burned  with  passion.  He  said: 
"None  believe  in  me  —  neither  wilt  thou.  But 
no  matter  —  within  the  compass  of  a  month  thou 
shalt  be  free ;  and  more,  the  laws  that  have  dis 
honored  thee,  and  shamed  the  English  name,  shall 
be  swept  from  the  statute  books.  The  world  is 
made  wrong,  kings  should  go  to  school  to  their  own 
laws  at  times,  and  so  learn  mercy."* 

*  See  Notes  to  Chapter  27,  at  end  of  volume. 
17 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

THE  SACRIFICE 

MEANTIME  Miles  was  growing  sufficiently  tired 
of  confinement  and  inaction.  But  now  his 
trial  came  on,  to  his  great  gratification,  and  he 
thought  he  could  welcome  any  sentence  provided  a 
further  imprisonment  should  not  be  a  part  of  it. 
But  he  was  mistaken  about  that.  He  was  in  a  fine 
fury  when  he  found  himself  described  as  a  "  sturdy 
vagabond"  and  sentenced  to  sit  two  hours  in  the 
pillory  for  bearing  that  character  and  for  assaulting 
the  master  of  Hendon  Hall.  His  pretensions  as  to 
brothership  with  his  prosecutor,  and  rightful  heir- 
ship  to  the  Hendon  honors  and  estates,  were  left 
contemptuously  unnoticed,  as  being  not  even  worth 
examination. 

He  raged  and  threatened  on  his  way  to  punish 
ment,  but  it  did  no  good ;  he  was  snatched  roughly 
along  by  the  officers,  and  got  an  occasional  cuff, 
besides,  for  his  unreverent  conduct. 

The  king  could  not  pierce  through  the  rabble  that 
swarmed  behind ;  so  he  was  obliged  to  follow  in  the 
rear,  remote  from  his  good  friend  and  servant.  The 

(254) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  255 

king  had  been  nearly  condemned  to  the  stocks  him 
self,  for  being  in  such  bad  company,  but  had  been 
let  off  with  a  lecture  and  a  warning,  in  consideration 
of  his  youth.  When  the  crowd  at  last  halted,  he 
flitted  feverishly  from  point  to  point  around  its  outer 
rim,  hunting  a  place  to  get  through;  and  at  last, 
after  a  deal  of  difficulty  and  delay,  succeeded. 
There  sat  his  poor  henchman  in  the  degrading 
stocks,  the  sport  and  butt  of  a  dirty  mob  —  he,  the 
body  servant  of  the  king  of  England  !  Edward  had 
heard  the  sentence  pronounced,  but  he  had  not  real 
ized  the  half  that  it  meant.  His  anger  began  to  rise 
as  the  sense  of  this  new  indignity  which  had  been 
put  upon  him  sank  home;  it  jumped  to  summer 
heat  the  next  moment,  when  he  saw  an  egg  sail 
through  the  air  and  crush  itself  against  Hendon's 
cheek,  and  heard  the  crowd  roar  its  enjoyment  of 
the  episode.  He  sprang  across  the  open  circle  and 
confronted  the  officer  in  charge,  crying: 

4 '  For  shame  !  This  is  my  servant  —  set  him  free  ! 
I  am  the — " 

"Oh,  peace!"  exclaimed  Hendon,  in  a  panic, 
"  thou'lt  destroy  thyself.  Mind  him  not,  officer, 
he  is  mad." 

4  *  Give  thyself  no  trouble  as  to  the  matter  of  mind 
ing  him,  good  man,  I  have  small  mind  to  mind  him; 
but  as  to  teaching  him  somewhat,  to  that  I  am  well 
inclined."  He  turned  to  a  subordinate  and  said, 
"  Give  the  little  fool  a  taste  or  two  of  the  lash,  to 
mend  his  manners," 


256  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"  Half  a  dozen  will  better  serve  his  turn,"  sug 
gested  Sir  flugh,  who  had  ridden  up  a  moment  be 
fore  to  take  a  passing  glance  at  the  proceedings. 

The  king  was  seized.  He  did  not  even  struggle, 
so  paralyzed  was  he  with  the  mere  thought  of  the 
monstrous  outrage  that  was  proposed  to  be  inflicted 
upon  his  sacred  person.  History  was  already  de 
filed  with  the  record  of  the  scourging  of  an  English 
king  with  whips  —  it  was  an  intolerable  reflection 
that  he  must  furnish  a  duplicate  of  that  shameful 
page.  He  was  in  the  toils,  there  was  no  help  for 
him ;  he  must  either  take  this  punishment  or  beg 
for  its  remission.  Hard  conditions ;  he  would  take 
the  stripes  —  a  king  might  do  that,  but  a  king  could 
not  beg. 

But  meantime,  Miles  Hendon  was  resolving  the 
difficulty.  "  Let  the  child  go,"  said  he;  "ye  heart 
less  dogs,  do  ye  not  see  how  young  and  frail  he  is? 
Let  him  go  —  I  will  take  his  lashes." 

' *  Marry,  a  good  thought, —  and  thanks  for  it," 
said  Sir  Hugh,  his  face  lighting  with  a  sardonic  satis 
faction.  "Let  the  little  beggar  go,  and  give  this 
fellow  a  dozen  in  his  place  —  an  honest  dozen,  well 
laid  on."  The  king  was  in  the  act  of  entering  a 
fierce  protest,  but  Sir  Hugh  silenced  him  with  the 
potent  remark,  "Yes,  speak  up,  do,  and  free  thy 
mind  —  only,  mark  ye,  that  for  each  word  you  utter 
he  shall  get  six  strokes  the  more." 

Hendon  was  removed  from  the  stocks,  and  his 
back  laid  bare ;  and  while  the  lash  was  applied  the 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  257 

poor  little  king  turned  away  his  face  and  allowed  un 
royal  tears  to  channel  his  cheeks  unchecked.  "  Ah, 
brave  good  heart, ' '  he  said  to  himself,  ! '  this  loyal 
deed  shall  never  perish  out  of  my  memory.  I  will 
not  forget  it  —  and  neither  shall  they!"  he  added, 
with  passion.  While  he  mused,  his  appreciation  of 
Hendon's  magnanimous  conduct  grew  to  greater 
and  still  greater  dimensions  in  his  mind,  and  so  also 
did  his  gratefulness  for  it.  Presently  he  said  to 
himself,  "Who  saves  his  prince  from  wounds  and 
possible  death  —  and  this  he  did  for  me  —  performs 
high  service ;  but  it  is  little  —  it  is  nothing  !  —  oh, 
less  than  nothing! — when  'tis  weighed  against  the 
act  of  him  who  saves  his  prince  from  SHAME!" 

Hendon  made  no  outcry  under  the  scourge,  but 
bore  the  heavy  blows  with  soldierly  fortitude.  This, 
together  with  his  redeeming  the  boy  by  taking  his 
stripes  for  him,  compelled  the  respect  of  even  that 
forlorn  and  degraded  mob  that  was  gathered  there ; 
and  its  gibes  and  hootings  died  away,  and  no  sound 
remained  but  the  sound  of  the  falling  blows.  The 
stillness  that  pervaded  the  place  when  Hendon  found 
himself  once  more  in  the  stocks,  was  in  strong  con 
trast  with  the  insulting  clamor  which  had  prevailed 
there  so  little  a  while  before.  The  king  came  softly 
to  Hendon's  side,  and  whispered  in  his  ear: 

"Kings   cannot  ennoble   thee,  thou   good,    great 
soul,  for  One  who   is    higher  than  kings  hath  done 
that  for  thee ;   but  a  king  can  confirm  thy  nobility  to  / 
men."     He  picked  up  the  scourge  from  the  ground, 
17 


258  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

touched  Hendon's  bleeding  shoulders  lightly  with 
it,  and  whispered,  "Edward  of  England  dubs  thee 
earl!" 

Hendon  was  touched.  The  water  welled  to  his 
eyes,  yet  at  the  same  time  the  grisly  humor  of  the 
situation  and  circumstances  so  undermined  his 
gravity  that  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  keep  some 
sign  of  his  inward  mirth  from  showing  outside.  To 
be  suddenly  hoisted,  naked  and  gory,  from  the  com 
mon  stocks  to  the  Alpine  altitude  and  splendor  of 
an  earldom,  seemed  to  him  the  last  possibility  in  the 
line  of  the  grotesque.  He  said  to  himself,  "Now 
am  I  finely  tinseled,  indeed  !  The  specter-knight  of 
the  Kingdom  of  Dreams  and  Shadows  is  become  a 
specter-earl !  —  a  dizzy  flight  for  a  callow  wing ! 
An'  this  go  on,  I  shall  presently  be  hung  like  a 
very  May-pole  with  fantastic  gauds  and  make-believe 
honors.  But  I  shall  value  them,  all  valueless  as 
they  are,  for  the  love  that  doth  bestow  them.  Better 
these  poor  mock  dignities  of  mine,  that  come  un 
asked  from  a  clean  hand  and  a  right  spirit,  than 
real  ones  bought  by  servility  from  grudging  and 
interested  power." 

The  dreaded  Sir  Hugh  wheeled  his  horse  about, 
and,  as  he  spurred  away,  the  living  wall  divided 
silently  to  let  him  pass,  and  as  silently  closed  to 
gether  again.  And  so  remained;  nobody  went  so 
far  as  to  venture  a  remark  in  favor  of  the  prisoner, 
or  in  compliment  to  him ;  but  no  matter,  the  ab 
sence  of  abuse  was  a  sufficient  homage  in  itself.  A 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  259 

late  comer  who  was  not  posted  as  to  the  present 
circumstances,  and  who  delivered  a  sneer  at  the 
*'  impostor  "  and  was  in  the  act  of  following  it  with 
a  dead  cat,  was  promptly  knocked  down  and  kicked 
out,  without  any  words,  and  then  the  deep  quiet 
resumed  sway  once  more. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

TO   LONDON 

WHEN  Hendon's  term  of  service  in  the  stocks 
was  finished,  he  was  released  and  ordered  to 
quit  the  region  and  come  back  no  more.  His  sword 
was  restored  to  him,  and  also  his  mule  and  his 
donkey.  He  mounted  and  rode  off,  followed  by 
the  king,  the  crowd  opening  with  quiet  respectful 
ness  to  let  them  pass,  and  then  dispersing  when  they 
were  gone. 

Hendon  was  soon  absorbed  in  thought.  There 
were  questions  of  high  import  to  be  answered. 
What  should  he  do?  Whither  should  he  go? 
Powerful  help  must  be  found  somewhere,  or  he 
must  relinquish  his  inheritance  and  remain  under 
the  imputation  of  being  an  impostor  besides.  Where 
could  he  hope  to  find  this  powerful  help?  Where, 
indeed!  It  was  a  knotty  question.  By  and  by  a 
thought  occurred  to  him  which  pointed  to  a  possi 
bility —  the  slenderest  of  slender  possibilities,  cer 
tainly,  but  still  worth  considering,  for  lack  of  any 
other  that  promised  anything  at  all.  He  remem 
bered  what  old  Andrews  had  said  about  the  young 

(260) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  261 

king's  goodness  and  his  generous  championship  of 
the  wronged  and  unfortunate.  Why  not  go  and  try 
to  get  speech  of  him  and  beg  for  justice?  Ah,  yes, 
but  could  so  fantastic  a  pauper  get  admission  to  the 
august  presence  of  a  monarch?  Nevermind  —  let 
that  matter  take  care  of  itself ;  it  was  a  bridge  that 
would  not  need  to  be  crossed  till  he  should  come  to 
it.  He  was  an  old  campaigner,  and  used  to  invent 
ing  shifts  and  expedients;  no  doubt  he  would  be 
able  to  find  a  way.  Yes,  he  would  strike  for  the 
capital.  Maybe  his  father's  old  friend,  Sir  Humphrey 
Marlow,  would  help  him  — "  good  old  Sir  Humphrey, 
Head  Lieutenant  of  the  late  king's  kitchen,  or 
stables,  or  something" — Miles  could  not  remember 
just  what  or  which.  Now  that  he  had  something  to 
turn  his  energies  to,  a  distinctly  defined  object  to 
accomplish,  the  fog  of  humiliation  and  depression 
which  had  settled  down  upon  his  spirits  lifted  and 
blew  away,  and  he  raised  his  head  and  looked  about 
him.  He  was  surprised  to  see  how  far  he  had 
come;  the  village  was  away  behind  him.  The  king 
was  jogging  along  in  his  wake,  with  his  head  bowed ; 
for  he,  too,  was  deep  in  plans  and  thinkings.  A 
sorrowful  misgiving  clouded  Hendon's  new-born 
cheerfulness ;  would  the  boy  be  willing  to  go  again 
to  a  city  where,  during  all  his  brief  life,  he  had 
never  known  anything  but  ill  usage  and  pinching 
want?  But  the  question  must  be  asked;  it  could 
not  be  avoided;  so  Hendon  reined  up,  and  called 
out: 


262  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

' '  I  had  forgotten  to  inquire  whither  we  are 
bound.  Thy  commands,  my  liege?" 

"To  London!" 

Hendon  moved  on  again,  mightily  contented  with 
the  answer  —  but  astounded  at  it,  too. 

The  whole  journey  was  made  without  an  adventure 
of  importance.  But  it  ended  with  one.  About  ten 
o'clock  on  the  night  of  the  ipth  of  February,  they 
stepped  upon  London  Bridge,  in  the  midst  of  a 
writhing,  struggling  jam  of  howling  and  hurrahing 
people,  whose  beer-jolly  faces  stood  out  strongly  in 
the  glare  from  manifold  torches  —  and  at  that  instant 
the  decaying  head  of  some  former  duke  or  other 
grandee  tumbled  down  between  them,  striking  Hen 
don  on  the  elbow  and  then  bounding  off  among  the 
hurrying  confusion  of  feet.  So  evanescent  and  un 
stable  are  men's  works  in  this  world!  —  the  late 
good  king  is  but  three  weeks  dead  and  three  days  in 
his  grave,  and  already  the  adornments  which  he  took 
such  pains  to  select  from  prominent  people  for  his 
noble  bridge  are  falling.  A  citizen  stumbled  over 
that  head,  and  drove  his  own  head  into  the  back  of 
somebody  in  front  of  him,  who  turned  and  knocked 
down  the  first  person  that  came  handy,  and  was 
promptly  laid  out  himself  by  that  person's  friend. 
It  was  the  right  ripe  time  for  a  free  fight,  for  the 
festivities  of  the  morrow  —  Coronation  Day  —  were 
already  beginning;  everybody  was  full  of  strong 
drink  and  patriotism ;  within  five  minutes  the  free 
fight  was  occupying  a  good  deal  of  ground ;  within 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  263 

ten  or  twelve  it  covered  an  acre  or  so,  and  was  be 
come  a  riot.  By  this  time  Hendon  and  the  king 
were  hopelessly  separated  from  each  other  and  lost 
in  the  rush  and  turmoil  of  the  roaring  masses  of 
humanity.  And  so  we  leave  them. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

TOM'S  PROGRESS 

WHILST  the  true  king  wandered  about  the  land, 
poorly  clad,  poorly  fed,  cuffed  and  derided 
by  tramps  one  while,  herding  with  thieves,  and  mur 
derers  in  a  jail  another,  and  called  idiot  and  impostor 
by  all  impartially,  the  mock  King  Tom  Canty  en 
joyed  a  quite  different  experience. 

When  we  saw  him  last,  royalty  was  just  beginning 
to  have  a  bright  side  for  him.  This  bright  side 
went  on  brightening  more  and  more  every  day ;  in  a 
very  little  while  it  was  become  almost  all  sunshine 
and  delightfulness.  He  lost  his  fears;  his  mis 
givings  faded  out  and  died ;  his  embarrassments 
departed,  and  gave  place  to  an  easy  and  confident 
bearing.  He  worked  the  whipping-boy  mine  to 
ever-increasing  profit. 

He  ordered  my  Lady  Elizabeth  and  my  Lady 
Jane  Grey  into  his  presence  when  he  wanted  to  play 
or  talk,  and  dismissed  them  when  he  was  done  with 
them,  with  the  air  of  one  familiarly  accustomed  to 
such  performances.  It  no  longer  confused  him  to 
have  these  lofty  personages  kiss  his  hand  at  parting. 

(264) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  265 

He  came  to  enjoy  being  conducted  to  bed  in  state 
at  night,  and  dressed  with  intricate  and  solemn  cere 
mony  in  the  morning.  It  came  to  be  a  proud 
pleasure  to  march  to  dinner  attended  by  a  glittering 
procession  of  officers  of  state  and  gentlemen-at- 
arms;  insomuch,  indeed,  that  he  doubled  his  guard 
of  gentlemen-at-arms,  and  made  them  a  hundred. 
He  liked  to  hear  the  bugles  sounding  down  the  long 
corridors,  and  the  distant  voices  responding,  "  Way 
for  the  King!" 

He  even  learned  to  enjoy  sitting  in  throned  state 
in  council,  and  seeming  to  be  something  more  than 
the  Lord  Protector's  mouthpiece.  He  liked  to  re 
ceive  great  ambassadors  and  their  gorgeous  trains, 
and  listen  to  the  affectionate  messages  they  brought 
from  illustrious  monarchs  who  called  him  *'  brother." 
Oh,  happy  Tom  Canty,  late  of  Offal  Court ! 

He  enjoyed  his  splendid  clothes,  and  ordered 
more;  he  found  his  four  hundred  servants  too  few 
for  his  proper  grandeur,  and  trebled  them.  The 
adulation  of  salaaming  courtiers  came  to  be  sweet 
music  to  his  ears.  He  remained  kind  and  gentle, 
and  a  sturdy  and  determined  champion  of  all  that 
were  oppressed,  and  he  made  tireless  war  upon  un 
just  laws;  yet  upon  occasion,  being  offended,  he 
could  turn  upon  an  earl,  or  even  a  duke,  and  give 
him  a  look  that  would  make  him  tremble.  Once, 
when  his  royal  "  sister,"  the  grimly  holy  Lady 
Mary,  set  herself  to  reason  with  him  against  the 
wisdom  of  his  course  in  pardoning  so  many  people 


266  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

who  would  otherwise  be  jailed,  or  hanged,  or 
burned,  and  reminded  him  that  their  august  late 
father's  prisons  had  sometimes  contained  as  high  as 
sixty  thousand  convicts  at  one  time,  and  that  during 
his  admirable  reign  he  had  delivered  seventy-two 
thousand  thieves  and  robbers  over  to  death  by  the 
executioner,*  the  boy  was  filled  with  generous  indig 
nation,  and  commanded  her  to  go  to  her  closet,  and 
beseech  God  to  take  away  the  stone  that  was  in  her 
breast,  and  give  her  a  human  heart. 

Did  Tom  Canty  never  feel  troubled  about  the 
poor  little  rightful  prince  who  had  treated  him  so 
kindly,  and  flown  out  with  such  hot  zeal  to  avenge 
him  upon  the  insolent  sentinel  at  the  palace-gate? 
Yes ;  his  first  royal  days  and  nights  were  pretty  well 
sprinkled  with  painful  thoughts  about  the  lost  prince, 
and  with  sincere  longings  for  his  return  and  happy 
restoration  to  his  native  rights  and  splendors.  But 
as  time  wore  on,  and  the  prince  did  not  come,  Tom's 
mind  became  more  and  more  occupied  with  his  new 
and  enchanting  experiences,  and  by  little  and  little 
the  vanished  monarch  faded  almost  out  of  his 
thoughts;  and  finally,  when  he  did  intrude  upon 
them  at  intervals,  he  was  become  an  unwelcome 
specter,  for  he  made  Tom  feel  guilty  and  ashamed. 

Tom's  poor  mother  and  sisters  traveled  the  same 
road  out  of  his  mind.  At  first  he  pined  for  them, 
sorrowed  for  them,  longed  to  see  them;  but  later, 
the  thought  of  their  coming  some  day  in  their  rags 

*  Hume's  England* 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  267 

and  dirt,  and  betraying  him  with  their  kisses,  and 
pulling  him  down  from  his  lofty  place,  and  dragging 
him  back  to  penury  and  degradation  and  the  slums, 
made  him  shudder.  At  last  they  ceased  to  trouble 
his  thoughts  almost  wholly.  And  he  was  content, 
even  glad ;  for,  whenever  their  mournful  and  ac 
cusing  faces  did  rise  before  him  now,  they  made 
him  feel  more  despicable  than  the  worms  that  crawl. 
At  midnight  of  the  ipth  of  February,  Tom  Canty 
was  sinking  to  sleep  in  his  rich  bed  in  the  palace, 
guarded  by  his  loyal  vassals,  and  surrounded  by  the 
pomps  of  royalty,  a  happy  boy ;  for  to-morrow  was 
the  day  appointed  for  his  solemn  crowning  as  king 
of  England.  At  that  same  hour,  Edward,  the  true 
king,  hungry  and  thirsty,  soiled  and  draggled,  worn 
with  travel,  and  clothed  in  rags  and  shreds, —  his 
share  of  the  results  of  the  riot, —  was  wedged  in 
among  a  crowd  of  people  who  were  watching  with 
deep  interest  certain  hurrying  gangs  of  workmen 
who  streamed  in  and  out  of  Westminster  Abbey, 
busy  as  ants ;  they  were  making  the  last  preparation 
for  the  royal  coronation. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

THE  RECOGNITION  PROCESSION 

WHEN  Tom  Canty  awoke  the  next  morning,  the 
air  was  heavy  with  a  thunderous  murmur ;  all 
the  distances  were  charged  with  it.  It  was  music  to 
him ;  for  it  meant  that  the  English  world  was  out  in 
its  strength  to  give  loyal  welcome  to  the  great  day. 

Presently  Tom  found  himself  once  more  the  chief 
figure  in  a  wonderful  floating  pageant  on  the 
Thames;  for  by  ancient  custom  the  "recognition 
procession"  through  London  must  start  from  the 
Tower,  and  he  was  bound  thither. 

When  he  arrived  there,  the  sides  of  the  venerable 
fortress  seemed  suddenly  rent  in  a  thousand  places, 
and  from  every  rent  leaped  a  red  tongue  of  flame 
and  a  white  gush  of  smoke ;  a  deafening  explosion 
followed,  which  drowned  the  shoutings  of  the  multi 
tude,  and  made  the  ground  tremble ;  the  flame- jets, 
the  smoke,  and  the  explosions  were  repeated  over 
and  over  again  with  marvelous  celerity,  so  that  in  a 
few  moments  the  old  Tower  disappeared  in  the  vast 
fog  of  its  own  smoke,  all  but  the  very  top  of  the  tall 

(268) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  269 

pile  called  the  White  Tower;  this,  with  its  banners, 
stood  out  above  the  dense  bank  of  vapor  as  a 
mountain-peak  projects  above  a  cloud-rack. 

Tom  Canty,  splendidly  arrayed,  mounted  a  pranc 
ing  war-steed,  whose  rich  trappings  almost  reached 
to  the  ground;  his  "uncle,"  the  Lord  Protector 
Somerset,  similarly  mounted,  took  place  in  his  rear; 
the  King's  Guard  formed  in  single  ranks  on  either 
side,  clad  in  burnished  armor;  after  the  Protector 
followed  a  seemingly  interminable  procession  of 
resplendent  nobles  attended  by  their  vassals ;  after 
these  came  the  lord  mayor  and  the  aldermanic  body, 
in  crimson  velvet  robes,  and  with  their  gold  chains 
across  their  breasts ;  and  after  these  the  officers  and 
members  of  all  the  guilds  of  London,  in  rich  raiment, 
and  bearing  the  showy  banners  of  the  several  cor 
porations.  Also  in  the  procession,  as  a  special 
guard  of  honor  through  the  city,  was  the  Ancient 
and  Honorable  Artillery  Company, —  an  organiza 
tion  already  three  hundred  years  old  at  that  time, 
and  the  only  military  body  in  England  possessing 
the  privilege  (which  it  still  possesses  in  our  day)  of 
holding  itself  independent  of  the  commands  of 
Parliament.  It  was  a  brilliant  spectacle,  and  was 
hailed  with  acclamations  all  along  the  line,  as  it  took 
its  stately  way  through  the  packed  multitudes  of 
citizens.  The  chronicler  says,  "The  king,  as  he 
entered  the  city,  was  received  by  the  people  with 
prayers,  welcomings,  cries,  and  tender  words,  and 
all  signs  which  argue  an  earnest  love  of  subjects 

18 


270  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

toward  their  sovereign;  and  the  king,  by  holding 
up  his  glad  countenance  to  such  as  stood  afar  off, 
and  most  tender  language  to  those  that  stood  nigh 
his  Grace,  showed  himself  no  less  thankful  to  receive 
the  people's  good  will  than  they  to  offer  it.  To  all 
that  wished  him  well,  he  gave  thanks.  To  such  as 
bade  '  God  save  his  Grace,'  he  said  in  return,  '  God 
save  you  all!'  and  added  that  'he  thanked  them 
with  all  his  heart.'  Wonderfully  transported  were 
the  people  with  the  loving  answers  and  gestures  of 
their  king." 

In  Fenchurch  street  a  "fair  child,  in  costly  ap 
parel,"  stood  on  a  stage  to  welcome  his  majesty  to 
the  city.  The  last  verse  of  his  greeting  was  in  these 
words : 

"  Welcome,  O  King !  as  much  as  hearts  can  think  ; 
Welcome  again,  as  much  as  tongue  can  tell, — 
Welcome  to  joyous  tongues,  and  hearts  that  will  not  shrink  ; 
God  thee  preserve,  we  pray,  and  wish  thee  ever  well." 

The  people  burst  forth  in  a  glad  shout,  repeating 
with  one  voice  what  the  child  had  said.  Tom  Canty 
gazed  abroad  over  the  surging  sea  of  eager  faces, 
and  his  heart  swelled  with  exultation ;  and  he  felt 
that  the  one  thing  worth  living  for  in  this  world  was 
to  be  a  king,  and  a  nation's  idol.  Presently  he 
caught  sight,  at  a  distance,  of  a  couple  of  his  ragged 
Offal  Court  comrades, —  one  of  them  the  lord  high 
admiral  in  his  late  mimic  court,  the  other  the  first 
lord  of  the  bedchamber  in  the  same  pretentious 
fiction;  and  his  pride  swelled  higher  than  ever. 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  271 

Oh,  if  they  could  only  recognize  him  now !  What 
unspeakable  glory  it  would  be,  if  they  could  recog 
nize  him,  and  realize  that  the  derided  mock  king  of 
the  slums  and  back  alleys  was  become  a  real  king, 
with  illustrious  dukes  and  princes  for  his  humble 
menials,  and  the  English  world  at  his  feet!  But  he 
had  to  deny  himself,  and  choke  down  his  desire,  for 
such  a  recognition  might  cost  more  than  it  would 
come  to;  so  he  turned  away  his  head,  and  left  the 
two  soiled  lads  to  go  on  with  their  shoutings  and 
glad  adulations,  unsuspicious  of  whom  it  was  they 
were  lavishing  them  upon. 

Every  now  and  then  rose  the  cry,  "  A  largess !  a 
largess !"  and  Tom  responded  by  scattering  a  hand 
ful  of  bright  new  coins  abroad  for  the  multitude  to 
scramble  for. 

The  chronicler  says,  "  At  the  upper  end  of  Grace- 
church  street,  before  the  sign  of  the  Eagle,  the  city 
had  erected  a  gorgeous  arch,  beneath  which  was  a 
stage,  which  stretched  from  one  side  of  the  street  to 
the  other.  This  was  a  historical  pageant,  represent 
ing  the  king's  immediate  progenitors.  There  sat 
Elizabeth  of  York  in  the  midst  of  an  immense  white 
rose,  whose  petals  formed  elaborate  furbelows  around 
her;  by  her  side  was  Henry  VII.,  issuing  out  of  a 
vast  red  rose,  disposed  in  the  same  manner;  the 
hands  of  the  royal  pair  were  locked  together,  and 
the  wedding-ring  ostentatiously  displayed.  From 
the  red  and  white  roses  proceeded  a  stem,  which 
reached  up  to  a  second  stage,  occupied  by  Henry 


272  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

VIII.,  issuing  from  a  red-and-white  rose,  with  the 
effigy  of  the  new  king's  mother,  Jane  Seymour, 
represented  by  his  side.  One  branch  sprang  from 
this  pair,  which  mounted  to  a  third  stage,  where  sat 
the  effigy  of  Edward  VI.  himself,  enthroned  in  royal 
majesty;  and  the  whole  pageant  was  framed  with 
wreaths  of  roses,  red  and  white." 

This  quaint  and  gaudy  spectacle  so  wrought  upon 
the  rejoicing  people,  that  their  acclamations  utterly 
smothered  the  small  voice  of  the  child  whose  busi 
ness  it  was  to  explain  the  thing  in  eulogistic  rhymes. 
But  Tom  Canty  was  not  sorry ;  for  this  loyal  uproar 
was  sweeter  music  to  him  than  any  poetry,  no  matter 
what  its  quality  might  be.  Whithersoever  Tom 
turned  his  happy  young  face,  the  people  recognized 
the  exactness  of  his  effigy's  likeness  to  himself,  the 
flesh  and  blood  counterpart;  and  new  whirlwinds  of 
applause  burst  forth. 

The  great  pageant  moved  on,  and  still  on,  under 
one  triumphal  arch  after  another,  and  past  a  bewil 
dering  succession  of  spectacular  and  symbolical 
tableaux,  each  of  which  typified  and  exalted  some 
virtue,  or  talent,  or  merit,  of  the  little  king's. 
4  Throughout  the  whole  of  Cheapside,  from  every 
penthouse  and  window,  hung  banners  and  streamers ; 
and  the  richest  carpets,  stuffs,  and  cloth-of-gold 
tapestried  the  streets, —  specimens  of  the  great 
wealth  of  the  stores  within ;  and  the  splendor  of 
this  thoroughfare  was  equaled  in  the  other  streets, 
and  in  some  even  surpassed." 


"OH,  MY  CHILD!" 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  273 

"  And  all  these  wonders  and  these  marvels  are  to 
welcome  me  —  me!"  murmured  Tom  Canty. 

The  mock  king's  cheeks  were  flushed  with  excite 
ment,  his  eyes  were  flashing,  his  senses  swam  in  a 
delirium  of  pleasure,  At  this  point,  just  as  he  was 
raising  his  hand  to  fling  another  rich  largess,  he 
caught  sight  of  a  pale,  astounded  face  which  was 
strained  forward  out  of  the  second  rank  of  the 
crowd,  its  intense  eyes  riveted  upon  him.  A  sicken 
ing  consternation  struck  through  him ;  he  recognized 
his  mother!  and  up  flew  his  hand,  palm  outward, 
before  his  eyes, —  that  old  involuntary  gesture,  born 
of  a  forgotten  episode,  and  perpetuated  by  habit. 
In  an  instant  more  she  had  torn  her  way  out  of  the 
press,  arid  past  the  guards,  and  was  at  his  side. 
She  embraced  his  leg,  she  covered  it  with  kisses,  she 
cried,  *'  O,  my  child,  my  darling!"  lifting  toward 
him  a  face  that  was  transfigured  with  joy  and  love. 
The  same  instant  an  officer  of  the  King's  Guard 
snatched  her  away  with  a  curse,  and  sent  her  reeling 
back  whence  she  came  with  a  vigorous  impulse  from 
his  strong  arm.  The  words  "  I  do  not  know  you, 
woman!"  were  falling  from  Tom  Canty's  lips  when 
this  piteous  thing  occurred ;  but  it  smote  him  to  the 
heart  to  see  her  treated  so ;  and  as  she  turned  for  a 
last  glimpse  of  him,  whilst  the  crowd  was  swallowing 
her  from  his  sight,  she  seemed  so  wounded,  so 
broken-hearted,  that  a  shame  fell  upon  him  which 
consumed  his  pride  to  ashes,  and  withered  his 
stolen  royalty.  His  grandeurs  were  stricken  value- 
18 


274  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

less ;  they  seemed  to  fall  away  from  him  like  rotten 
rags. 

The  procession  moved  on,  and  still  on,  through 
ever  augmenting  splendors  and  ever  augmenting 
tempests  of  welcome ;  but  to  Tom  Canty  they  were 
as  if  they  had  not  been.  He  neither  saw  nor  heard. 
Royalty  had  lost  its  grace  and  sweetness ;  its  pomps 
were  become  a  reproach.  Remorse  was  eating  his 
heart  out.  He  said,  "Would  God  I  were  free  of 
my  captivity  ! ' ' 

He  had  unconsciously  dropped  back  into  the 
phraseology  of  the  first  days  of  his  compulsory 
greatness. 

The  shining  pageant  still  went  winding  like  a 
radiant  and  interminable  serpent  down  the  crooked 
lanes  of  the  quaint  old  city,  and  through  the  huzza 
ing  hosts ;  but  still  the  king  rode  with  bowed  head 
and  vacant  eyes,  seeing  only  his  mother's  face  and 
that  wounded  look  in  it. 

"Largess,  largess!"  The  cry  fell  upon  an  un 
heeding  ear. 

"  Long  live  Edward  of  England  !"  It  seemed  as 
if  the  earth  shook  with  the  explosion ;  but  there  was 
no  response  from  the  king.  He  heard  it  only  as 
one  hears  the  thunder  of  the  surf  when  it  is  blown 
to  the  ear  out  of  a  great  distance,  for  it  was  smoth 
ered  under  another  sound  which  was  still  nearer,  in 
his  own  breast,  in  his  accusing  conscience, —  a  voice 
which  kept  repeating  those  shameful  words,  "  I  do 
not  know  you,  woman!" 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  275 

The  words  smote  upon  the  king's  soul  as  the 
strokes  of  a  funeral  bell  smite  upon  the  soul  of  a 
surviving  friend  when  they  remind  him  of  secret 
treacheries  suffered  at  his  hands  by  him  that  is 
gone. 

New  glories  were  unfolded  at  every  turning;  new 
wonders,  new  marvels,  sprung  into  view;  the  pent 
clamors  of  waiting  batteries  were  released  ;  new  rap 
tures  poured  from  the  throats  of  the  waiting  multi 
tudes ;  but  the  king  gave  no  sign,  and  the  accusing 
voice  that  went  moaning  through  his  comfortless 
breast  was  all  the  sound  he  heard. 

By  and  by  the  gladness  in  the  faces  of  the  popu 
lace  changed  a  little,  and  became  touched  with  a 
something  like  solicitude  or  anxiety ;  an  abatement 
in  the  volume  of  applause  was  observable  too.  The 
Lord  Protector  was  quick  to  notice  these  things ;  he 
was  as  quick  to  detect  the  cause.  He  spurred  to 
the  king's  side,  bent  low  in  his  saddle,  uncovered, 
and  said : 

"  My  liege,  it  is  an  ill  time  for  dreaming.  The 
people  observe  thy  downcast  head,  thy  clouded 
mien,  and  they  take  it  for  an  omen.  Be  advised; 
unveil  the  sun  of  royalty,  and  let  it  shine  upon  these 
boding  vapors,  and  disperse  them.  Lift  up  thy  face, 
and  smile  upon  the  people." 

So  saying,  the  duke  scattered   a  handful  of  coins 

to    right    and   left,  then   retired   to  his  place.     The 

mock  king  did  mechanically  as  he  had  been  bidden. 

His  smile  had  no  heart  in  it,  but  few  eyes  were  near 

B 


276  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

enough  or  sharp  enough  to  detect  that.  The  nod- 
dings  of  his  plumed  head  as  he  saluted  his  subjects 
were  full  of  grace  and  graciousness ;  the  largess 
which  he  delivered  from  his  hand  was  royally 
liberal;  so  the  people's  anxiety  vanished,  and  the 
acclamations  burst  forth  again  in  as  mighty  a  volume 
as  before. 

Still  once  more,  a  little  before  the  progress  was 
ended,  the  duke  was  obliged  to  ride  forward,  and 
make  remonstrance.  He  whispered  : 

"  O  dread  sovereign  !  shake  off  these  fatal  humors ; 
the  eyes  of  the  world  are  upon  thee."  Then  he 
added  with  sharp  annoyance,  "Perdition  catch  that 
crazy  pauper!  'twas  she  that  hath  disturbed  your 
Highness." 

The  gorgeous  figure  turned  a  lusterless  eye  upon 
the  duke,  and  said  in  a  dead  voice : 

11  She  was  my  mother  !" 

11  My  God!"  groaned  the  Protector  as  he  reined 
his  horse  backward  to  his  post,  "the  omen  was 
pregnant  with  prophecy.  He  is  gone  mad  again  !" 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

CORONATION   DAY 

LET  us  go  backward  a  few  hours,  and  place  our 
selves  in  Westminster  Abbey,  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  this  memorable  Coronation  Day. 
We  are  not  without  company;  for  although  it  is 
still  night,  we  find  the  torch-lighted  galleries  already 
filling  up  with  people  who  are  well  content  to  sit 
still  and  wait  seven  or  eight  hours  till  the  time  shall 
come  for  them  to  see  what  they  may  not  hope  to  see 
twice  in  their  lives  —  the  coronation  of  a  king.  Yes, 
London  and  Westminster  have  been  astir  ever  since 
the  warning  guns  boomed  at  three  o'clock,  and 
already  crowds  of  untitled  rich  folk  who  have  bought 
the  privilege  of  trying  to  find  sitting-room  in  the 
galleries  are  flocking  in  at  the  entrances  reserved  for 
their  sort. 

The  hours  drag  along,  tediously  enough.  All 
stir  has  ceased  for  some  time,  for  every  gallery  has 
long  ago  been  packed.  We  may  sit  now,  and  look 
and  think  at  our  leisure.  We  have  glimpses,  here 
and  there  and  yonder,  through  the  dim  cathedral 
twilight,  of  portions  of  many  galleries  and  balconies, 

(277) 


278  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

wedged  full  with  people,  the  other  portions  of  these 
galleries  and  balconies  being  cut  off  from  sight  by 
intervening  pillars  and  architectural  projections.  We 
have  in  view  the  whole  of  the  great  north  transept  — 
empty,  and  waiting  for  England's  privileged  ones. 
We  see  also  the  ample  area  or  platform,  carpeted 
with  rich  stuffs,  whereon  the  throne  stands.  The 
throne  occupies  the  center  of  the  platform,  and  is 
raised  above  it  upon  an  elevation  of  four  steps. 
Within  the  seat  of  the  throne  is  enclosed  a  rough  flat 
rock — the  stone  of  Scone  —  which  many  genera 
tions  of  Scottish  kings  sat  on  to  be  crowned,  and  so 
it  in  time  became  holy  enough  to  answer  a  like  pur 
pose  for  English  monarchs.  Both  the  throne  and 
its  footstool  are  covered  with  cloth  of  gold. 

Stillness  reigns,  the  torches  blink  dully,  the  time 
drags  heavily.  But  at  last  the  lagging  daylight 
asserts  itself,  the  torches  are  extinguished,  and  a 
mellow  radiance  suffuses  the  great  spaces.  All 
features  of  the  noble  building  are  distinct  now,  but 
soft  and  dreamy,  for  the  sun  is  lightly  veiled  with 
clouds. 

At  seven  o'clock  the  first  break  in  the  drowsy 
monotony  occurs;  for  on  the  stroke  of  this  hour 
the  first  peeress  enters  the  transept,  clothed  like 
Solomon  for  splendor,  and  is  conducted  to  her  ap 
pointed  place  by  an  official  clad  in  satins  and  vel 
vets,  whilst  a  duplicate  of  him  gathers  up  the  lady's 
long  train,  follows  after,  and,  when  the  lady  is 
seated,  arranges  the  train  across  her  lap  for  her. 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  279 

He  then  places  her  footstool  according  to  her  desire, 
after  which  he  puts  her  coronet  where  it  will  be  con 
venient  to  her  hand  when  the  time  for  the  simul 
taneous  coronetting  of  the  nobles  shall  arrive. 

By  this  time  the  peeresses  are  flowing  in  in  a 
glittering  stream,  and  satin-clad  officials  are  flitting 
and  glinting  everywhere,  seating  them  and  making 
them  comfortable.  The  scene  is  animated  enough 
now.  There  is  stir  and  life,  and  shifting  color 
everywhere.  After  a  time,  quiet  reigns  again;  for 
the  peeresses  are  all  come,  and  are  all  in  their  places 
—  a  solid  acre,  or  such  a  matter,  of  human  flowers, 
resplendent  in  variegated  colors,  and  frosted  like  a 
Milky  Way  with  diamonds.  There  are  all  ages 
here:  brown,  wrinkled,  white-haired  dowagers  who 
are  able  to  go  back,  and  still  back,  down  the  stream 
of  time,  and  recall  the  crowning  of  Richard  III.  and 
the  troublous  days  of  that  old  forgotten  age ;  and 
there  are  handsome  middle-aged  dames ;  and  lovely 
and  gracious  young  matrons ;  and  gentle  and  beau 
tiful  young  girls,  with  beaming  eyes  and  fresh  com 
plexions,  who  may  possibly  put  on  their  jeweled 
coronets  awkwardly  when  the  great  time  comes ;  for 
the  matter  will  be  new  to  them,  and  their  excitement 
will  be  a  sore  hindrance.  Still,  this  may  not  hap 
pen,  for  the  hair  of  all  these  ladies  has  been  arranged 
with  a  special  view  to  the  swift  and  successful  lodg 
ing  of  the  crown  in  its  place  when  the  signal  comes. 
We  have  seen  that  this  massed  array  of  peeresses 
is  sown  thick  with  diamonds,  and  we  also  see  that  it 


280  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

is  a  marvelous  spectacle — -but  now  we  are  about  to 
be  astonished  in  earnest.  About  nine,  the  clouds 
suddenly  break  away  and  a  shaft  of  sunshine  cleaves 
the  mellow  atmosphere,  and  drifts  slowly  along  the 
ranks  of  ladies ;  and  every  rank  it  touches  flames 
into  a  dazzling  splendor  of  many-colored  fires,  and 
we  tingle  to  our  finger-tips  with  the  electric  thrill 
that  is  shot  through  us  by  the  surprise  and  the 
beauty  of  the  spectacle !  Presently  a  special  envoy 
from  some  distant  corner  of  the  Orient,  marching 
with  the  general  body  of  foreign  ambassadors, 
crosses  this  bar  of  sunshine,  and  we  catch  our 
breath,  the  glory  that  streams  and  flashes  and  pal 
pitates  about  him  is  so  overpowering;  for  he  is 
crusted  from  head  to  heels  with  gems,  and  his 
slightest  movement  showers  a  dancing  radiance  all 
around  him. 

Let  us  change  the  tense  for  convenience.  The 
time  drifted  along, —  one  hour  —  two  hours  —  two 
hours  and  a  half;  then  the  deep  booming  of  artillery 
told  that  the  king  and  his  grand  procession  had 
arrived  at  last;  so  the  waiting  multitude  rejoiced. 
All  knew  that  a  further  delay  must  follow,  for  the 
king  must  be  prepared  and  robed  for  the  solemn 
ceremony;  but  this  delay  would  be  pleasantly  occu 
pied  by  the  assembling  of  the  peers  of  the  realm  in 
their  stately  robes.  These  were  conducted  cere 
moniously  to  their  seats,  and  their  coronets  placed 
conveniently  at  hand ;  and  meanwhile  the  multitude 
in  the  galleries  were  alive  with  interest,  for  most  of 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  281 

them  were  beholding  for  the  first  time,  dukes,  earls, 
and  barons,  whose  names  had  been  historical  for  five 
hundred  years.  When  all  were  finally  seated,  the 
spectacle  from  the  galleries  and  all  coigns  of  vantage 
was  complete ;  a  gorgeous  one  to  look  upon  and  to 
remember. 

Now  the  robed  and  mitred  great  heads  of  the 
church,  and  their  attendants,  filed  in  upon  the  plat 
form  and  took  their  appointed  places;  these  were 
followed  by  the  Lord  Protector  and  other  great 
officials,  and  these  again  by  a  steel-clad  detachment 
of  the  Guard. 

There  was  a  waiting  pause;  then,  at  a  signal,  a 
triumphant  peal  of  music  burst  forth,  and  Tom 
Canty,  clothed  in  a  long  robe  of  cloth  of  gold,  ap 
peared  at  a  door,  and  stepped  upon  the  platform. 
The  entire  multitude  rose,  and  the  ceremony  of  the 
Recognition  ensued. 

Then  a  noble  anthem  swept  the  Abbey  with  its 
rich  waves  of  sound ;  and  thus  heralded  and  wel 
comed,  Tom  Canty  was  conducted  to  the  throne. 
The  ancient  ceremonies  went  on  with  impressive 
solemnity,  whilst  the  audience  gazed ;  and  as  they 
drew  nearer  and  nearer  to  completion,  Tom  Canty 
grew  pale,  and  still  paler,  and  a  deep  and  steadily 
deepening  woe  and  despondency  settled  down  upon 
his  spirits  and  upon  his  remorseful  heart. 

At  last  the  final  act  was  at  hand.  The  Arch 
bishop  of  Canterbury  lifted  up  the  crown  of  Eng 
land  from  its  cushion  and  held  it  out  over  the  trem- 


282  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

bling  mock  king's  head.  In  the  same  instant  a 
rainbow-radiance  flashed  along  the  spacious  tran 
sept;  for  with  one  impulse  every  individual  in  the 
great  concourse  of  nobles  lifted  a  coronet  and  poised 
it  over  his  or  her  head, —  and  paused  in  that  attitude. 

A  deep  hush  pervaded  the  Abbey.  At  this  im 
pressive  moment,  a  startling  apparition  intruded 
upon  the  scene  —  an  apparition  observed  by  none 
in  the  absorbed  multitude,  until  it  suddenly  ap 
peared,  moving  up  the  great  central  aisle.  It  was  a 
boy,  bareheaded,  ill  shod,  and  clothed  in  coarse 
plebeian  garments  that  were  falling  to  rags.  He 
raised  his  hand  with  a  solemnity  which  ill  comported 
with  his  soiled  and  sorry  aspect,  and  delivered  this 
note  of  warning : 

"  I  forbid  you  to  set  the  crown  of  England  upon 
that  forfeited  head.  /  am  the  king  !" 

In  an  instant  several  indignant  hands  were  laid 
upon  the  boy;  but  in  the  same  instant  Tom  Canty, 
in  his  regal  vestments,  made  a  swift  step  forward 
and  cried  out  in  a  ringing  voice : 

4<  Loose  him  and  forbear !     He  is  the  king!" 

A  sort  of  panic  of  astonishment  swept  the  assem 
blage,  and  they  partly  rose  in  their  places  and  stared 
in  a  bewildered  way  at  one  another  and  at  the  chief 
figures  in  this  scene,  like  persons  who  wondered 
whether  they  were  awake  and  in  their  senses,  or 
asleep  and  dreaming.  The  Lord  Protector  was  as 
amazed  as  the  rest,  but  quickly  recovered  himself 
and  exclaimed  in  a  voice  of  authority : 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  283 

*'  Mind  not  his  Majesty,  his  malady  is  upon  him 
again  —  seize  the  vagabond  !  " 

He  would  have  been  obeyed,  but  the  mock  king 
stamped  his  foot  and  cried  out: 

"  On  your  peril!  Touch  him  not,  he  is  the 
king!" 

The  hands  were  withheld ;  a  paralysis  fell  upon 
the  house;  no  one  moved,  no  one  spoke;  indeed, 
no  one  knew  how  to  act  or  what  to  say,  in  so  strange 
and  surprising  an  emergency.  While  all  minds  were 
struggling  to  right  themselves,  the  boy  still  moved 
steadily  forward,  with  high  port  and  confident  mien ; 
he  had  never  halted  from  the  beginning;  and  while 
the  tangled  minds  still  floundered  helplessly,  he 
stepped  upon  the  platform,  and  the  mock  king  ran 
with  a  glad  face  to  meet  him ;  and  fell  on  his  knees 
before  him  and  said  : 

**O,  my  lord  the  king,  let  poor  Tom  Canty  be 
first  to  swear  fealty  to  thee,  and  say  '  Put  on  thy 
crown  and  enter  into  thine  own  again  ! '  ' 

The  Lord  Protector's  eye  fell  sternly  upon  the 
newcomer's  face;  but  straightway  the  sternness  van 
ished  away,  and  gave  place  to  an  expression  of 
wondering  surprise.  This  thing  happened  also  to 
the  other  great  officers.  They  glanced  at  each 
other,  and  retreated  a  step  by  a  common  and  un 
conscious  impulse.  The  thought  in  each  mind  was 
the  same:  "  What  a  strange  resemblance  !" 

The  Lord  Protector  reflected  a  moment  or  two  in 
perplexity,  then  he  said,  with  grave  respectfulness: 


284  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"  By  your  favor,  sir,  I  desire  to  ask  certain  ques 
tions  which — " 

" 1  will  answer  them,  my  lord." 

The  duke  asked  him  many  questions  about  the 
court,  the  late  king,  the  prince,  the  princesses.  The 
boy  answered  them  correctly  and  without  hesitating. 
He  described  the  rooms  of  state  in  the  palace,  the 
late  king's  apartments,  and  those  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales. 

It  was  strange;  it  was  wonderful;  yes,  it  was  un 
accountable —  so  all  said  that  heard  it.  The  tide 
was  beginning  to  turn,  and  Tom  Canty's  hopes  to 
run  high,  when  the  Lord  Protector  shook  his  head 
and  said : 

"It  is  true  it  is  most  wonderful  —  but  it  is  no 
more  than  our  lord  the  king  likewise  can  do."  This 
remark,  and  this  reference  to  himself  as  still  the 
king,  saddened  Tom  Canty,  and  he  felt  his  hopes 
crumbling  from  under  him.  "  These  are  not  proofs," 
added  the  Protector. 

The  tide  was  turning  very  fast  now,  very  fast, 
indeed  —  but  in  the  wrong  direction;  it  was  leaving 
poor  Tom  Canty  stranded  on  the  throne,  and  sweep 
ing  the  other  out  to  sea.  The  Lord  Protector  com 
muned  with  himself  —  shook  his  head  —  the  thought 
forced  itself  upon  him,  "  It  is  perilous  to  the  State 
and  to  us  all,  to  entertain  so  fateful  a  riddle  as  this; 
it  could  divide  the  nation  and  undermine  the 
throne."  He  turned  and  said: 

"Sir    Thomas,    arrest    this  — No,    hold!"      His 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  285 

face   lighted,  and   he   confronted   the  ragged   candi 
date  with  this  question : 

1 '  Where  lieth  the  Great  Seal  ?  Answer  me  this 
truly,  and  the  riddle  is  unriddled ;  for  only  he  that 
was  Prince  of  Wales  can  so  answer !  On  so  trivial  a 
thing  hang  a  throne  and  a  dynasty !" 

It  was  a  lucky  thought,  a  happy  thought.  That 
it  was  so  considered  by  the  great  officials  was  mani 
fested  by  the  silent  applause  that  shot  from  eye  to 
eye  around  their  circle  in  the  form  of  bright  approv 
ing  glances.  Yes,  none  but  the  true  prince  could 
dissolve  the  stubborn  mystery  of  the  vanished  Great 
Seal  —  this  forlorn  little  impostor  had  been  taught 
his  lesson  well,  but  here  his  teachings  must  fail,  for 
his  teacher  himself  could  not  answer  that  question  — 
ah,  very  good,  very  good  indeed:  now  we  shall  be 
rid  of  this  troublesome  and  perilous  business  in  short 
order !  And  so  they  nodded  invisibly  and  smiled 
inwardly  with  satisfaction,  and  looked  to  see  this 
foolish  lad  stricken  with  a  palsy  of  guilty  confusion. 
How  surprised  they  were,  then,  to  see  nothing  of 
the  sort  happen  —  how  they  marveled  to  hear  him 
answer  up  promptly,  in  a  confident  and  untroubled 
voice,  and  say: 

'*  There  is  nought  in  this  riddle  that  is  difficult." 
Then,  without  so  much  as  a  by-your-leave  to  any 
body,  he  turned  and  gave  this  command,  with  the 
easy  manner  of  one  accustomed  to  doing  such 
things:  "  My  Lord  St.  John,  go  you  to  my  private 

cabinet  in  the  palace  —  for  none  knoweth  the  place 
19 


286  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

better  than  you  —  and,  close  down  to  the  floor,  in 
the  left  corner  remotest  from  the  door  that  opens 
from  the  antechamber,  you  shall  find  in  the  wall  a 
brazen  nail-head ;  press  upon  it  and  a  little  jewel- 
closet  will  fly  open  which  not  even  you  do  know  of 
—  no,  nor  any  soul  else  in  all  the  world  but  me 
and  the  trusty  artisan  that  did  contrive  it  for  me. 
The  first  thing  that  falleth  under  your  eye  will  be 
the  Great  Seal — fetch  it  hither." 

All  the  company  wondered  at  this  speech,  and 
wondered  still  more  to  see  the  little  mendicant  pick 
out  this  peer  without  hesitancy  or  apparent  fear  of 
mistake,  and  call  him  by  name  with  such  a  placidly 
convincing  air  of  having  known  him  all  his  life.  The 
peer  was  almost  surprised  into  obeying.  He  even 
made  a  movement  as  if  to  go,  but  quickly  recovered 
his  tranquil  attitude  and  confessed  his  blunder  with 
a  blush.  Tom  Canty  turned  upon  him  and  said, 
sharply : 

"Why  dost  thou  hesitate?  Hast  not  heard  the 
king's  command?  Go!" 

The  Lord  St.  John  made  a  deep  obeisance  —  and 
it  was  observed  that  it  was  a  significantly  cautious 
and  non-committal  one,  it  not  being  delivered  at 
either  of  the  kings,  but  at  the  neutral  ground  about 
half  way  between  the  two  —  and  took  his  leave. 

Now  began  a  movement  of  the  gorgeous  particles 
of  that  official  group  which  was  slow,  scarcely  per 
ceptible,  and  yet  steady  and  persistent — a  move 
ment  such  as  is  observed  in  a  kaleidoscope  that  is 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  287 

turned  slowly,  whereby  the  components  of  one 
splendid  cluster  fall  away  and  join  themselves  to 
another  —  a  movement  which,  little  by  little,  in  the 
present  case,  dissolved  the  glittering  crowd  that 
stood  about  Tom  Canty  and  clustered  it  together 
again  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  newcomer.  Tom 
Canty  stood  almost  alone.  Now  ensued  a  brief 
season  of  deep  suspense  and  waiting  —  during  which 
even  the  few  faint-hearts  still  remaining  near  Tom 
Canty  gradually  scraped  together  courage  enough  to 
glide,  one  by  one,  over  to  the  majority.  So  at  last 
Tom  Canty,  in  his  royal  robes  and  jewels,  stood 
wholly  alone  and  isolated  from  the  world,  a  con 
spicuous  figure,  occupying  an  eloquent  vacancy. 

Now  the  Lord  St.  John  was  seen  returning.  As 
he  advanced  up  the  mid-aisle  the  interest  was  so 
intense  that  the  low  murmur  of  conversation  in  the 
great  assemblage  died  out  and  was  succeeded  by  a 
profound  hush,  a  breathless  stillness,  through  which 
his  footfalls  pulsed  with  a  dull  and  distant  sound. 
Every  eye  was  fastened  upon  him  as  he  moved 
along.  He  reached  the  platform,  paused  a  moment, 
then  moved  toward  Tom  Canty  with  a  deep  obei 
sance,  and  said : 

11  Sire,  the  Seal  is  not  there !" 

A  mob  does  not  melt  away  from  the  presence  of 
a  plague-patient  with  more  haste  than  the  band  of 
pallid  and  terrified  courtiers  melted  away  from  the 
presence  of  the  shabby  little  claimant  of  the  Crown. 
In  a  moment  he  stood  all  alone,  without  friend  or 


288  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

supporter,  a  target  upon  which  was  concentrated  a 
bitter  fire  of  scornful  and  angry  looks.  The  Lord 
Protector  called  out  fiercely : 

"  Cast  the  beggar  into  the  street,  and  scourge  him 
through  the  town  —  the  paltry  knave  is  worth  no 
more  consideration!" 

Officers  of  the  guard  sprang  forward  to  obey,  but 
Tom  Canty  waved  them  off  and  said : 

"  Back  !     Whoso  touches  him  perils  his  life  !" 

The  Lord  Protector  was  perplexed  in  the  last 
degree.  He  said  to  the  Lord  St.  John : 

"  Searched  you  well  ?  —  but  it  boots  not  to  ask 
that.  It  doth  seem  passing  strange.  Little  things, 
trifles,  slip  out  of  one's  ken,  and  one  does  not  think 
it  matter  for  surprise ;  but  how  a  so  bulky  thing  as 
the  Seal  of  England  can  vanish  away  and  no  man 
be  able  to  get  track  of  it  again  —  a  massy  golden 
disk  —  " 

Tom  Canty,  with  beaming  eyes,  sprang  forward 
and  shouted : 

44  Hold,  that  is  enough!  Was  it  round?  —  and 
thick?  —  and  had  it  letters  and  devices  graved  upon 
it?  —  Yes?  Oh,  now  I  know  what  this  Great 
Seal  is  that  there's  been  such  worry  and  pother 
about !  An'  ye  had  described  it  to  me,  ye  could 
have  had  it  three  weeks  ago.  Right  well  I  know 
where  it  lies ;  but  it  was  not  I  that  put  it  there  — 
first." 

44  Who,  then,  my  liege?"  asked  the  Lord  Pro 
tector. 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  289 

"  He  that  stands  there  —  the  rightful  king  of  Eng 
land.  And  he  shall  tell  you  himself  where  it  lies  — 
then  you  will  believe  he  knew  it  of  his  own  knowl 
edge.  Bethink  thee,  my  king  —  spur  thy  memory 
—  it  was  the  last,  the  very  last  thing  thou  didst  that 
day  before  thou  didst  rush  forth  from  the  palace, 
clothed  in  my  rags,  to  punish  the  soldier  that  in 
sulted  me." 

A  silence  ensued,  undisturbed  by  a  movement  or 
a  whisper,  and  all  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  new 
comer,  who  stood,  with  bent  head  and  corrugated 
brow,  groping  in  his  memory  among  a  thronging 
multitude  of  valueless  recollections  for  one  single 
little  elusive  fact,  which  found,  would  seat  him  upon 
a  throne  —  unfound,  would  leave  him  as  he  was,  for 
good  and  all  —  a  pauper  and  an  outcast.  Moment 
after  moment  passed  —  the  moments  built  them 
selves  into  minutes  —  still  the  boy  struggled  silently 
on,  and  gave  no  sign.  But  at  last  he  heaved  a  sigh, 
shook  his  head  slowly,  and  said,  with  a  trembling 
lip  and  in  a  despondent  voice : 

44  I  call  the  scene  back  —  all  of  it  —  but  the  Seal 
hath  no  place  in  it."  He  paused,  then  looked  up, 
and  said  with  gentle  dignity,  44  My  lords  and  gentle 
men,  if  ye  will  rob  your  rightful  sovereign  of  his 
own  for  lack  of  this  evidence  which  he  is  not  able 
to  furnish,  I  may  not  stay  ye,  being  powerless. 
But—" 

44  O    folly,   O  madness,   my  king!"    cried   Tom 
Canty,  in  a  panic,  44wait! — think!     Do  not  give 
19 


290  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

up  !  —  the  cause  is  not  lost !  Nor  shall  be,  neither  ! 
List  to  what  I  say  —  follow  every  word  —  I  am 
going  to  bring  that  morning  back  again,  every  hap 
just  as  it  happened.  We  talked  —  I  told  you  of  my 
sisters,  Nan  and  Bet  —  ah,  yes,  you  remember  that; 
and  about  mine  old  grandam  —  and  the  rough  games 
of  the  lads  of  Offal  Court  —  yes,  you  remember 
these  things  also ;  very  well,  follow  me  still,  you 
shall  recall  everything.  You  gave  me  food  and 
drink,  and  did  with  princely  courtesy  send  away  the 
servants,  so  that  my  low  breeding  might  not  shame 
me  before  them  —  ah,  yes,  this  also  you  remember." 

As  Tom  checked  off  his  details,  and  the  other  boy 
nodded  his  head  in  recognition  of  them,  the  great 
audience  and  the  officials  stared  in  puzzled  wonder 
ment;  the  tale  sounded  like  true  history,  yet  how 
could  this  impossible  conjunction  between  a  prince 
and  a  beggar  boy  have  come  about?  Never  was  a 
company  of  people  so  perplexed,  so  interested,  and 
so  stupefied,  before. 

"For  a  jest,  my  prince,  we  did  exchange  gar 
ments.  Then  we  stood  before  a  mirror;  and  so 
alike  were  we  that  both  said  it  seemed  as  if  there 
had  been  no  change  made  —  yes,  you  remember 
that.  Then  you  noticed  that  the  soldier  had  hurt 
my  hand  —  look!  here  it  is,  I  cannot  yet  even  write 
with  it,  the  fingers  are  so  stiff.  At  this  your  High 
ness  sprang  up,  vowing  vengeance  upon  that  soldier, 
and  ran  toward  the  door  —  you  passed  a  table  — 
that  thing  you  call  the  Seal  lay  on  that  table  —  you 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  291 

snatched  it  up  and  looked  eagerly  about,  as  if  for  a 
place  to  hide  it  —  your  eye  caught  sight  of  —  " 

'There,  'tis  sufficient!  —  and  the  dear  God  be 
thanked ! ' '  exclaimed  the  ragged  claimant,  in  a 
mighty  excitement.  "  Go,  my  good  St.  John, —  in 
an  arm-piece  of  the  Milanese  armor  that  hangs  on 
the  wall,  thou'lt  find  the  Seal!" 

"Right,  my  king!  right!"  cried  Tom  Canty; 
"  now  the  scepter  of  England  is  thine  own;  and  it 
were  better  for  him  that  would  dispute  it  that  he  had 
been  born  dumb  !  Go,  my  Lord  St.  John,  give  thy 
feet  wings !" 

The  whole  assemblage  was  on  its  feet  now,  and 
well  nigh  out  of  its  mind  with  uneasiness,  apprehen 
sion,  and  consuming  excitement.  On  the  floor  and 
on  the  platform  a  deafening  buzz  of  frantic  conver 
sation  burst  forth,  and  for  some  time  nobody  knew 
anything  or  heard  anything  or  was  interested  in  any 
thing  but  what  his  neighbor  was  shouting  into  his 
ear,  or  he  was  shouting  into  his  neighbor's  ear. 
Time  —  nobody  knew  how  much  of  it  —  swept  by 
unheeded  and  unnoted.  At  last  a  sudden  hush  fell 
upon  the  house,  and  in  the  same  moment  St.  John 
appeared  upon  the  platform  and  held  the  Great  Seal 
aloft  in  his  hand.  Then  such  a  shout  went  up ! 

'  *  Long  live  the  true  king  ! ' ' 

For  five  minutes  the  air  quaked  with  shouts  and 
the  crash  of  musical  instruments,  and  was  white 
with  a  storm  of  waving  handkerchiefs ;  and  through 
it  all  a  ragged  lad,  the  most  conspicuous  figure  in 


292  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

England,  stood,  flushed  and  happy  and  proud,  in 
the  center  of  the  spacious  platform,  with  the  great 
vassals  of  the  kingdom  kneeling  around  him. 

Then  all  rose,  and  Tom  Canty  cried  out: 

"Now,  O  my  king,  take  these  regal  garments 
back,  and  give  poor  Tom,  thy  servant,  his  shreds 
and  remnants  again." 

The  Lord  Protector  spoke  up  : 

' '  Let  the  small  varlet  be  stripped  and  flung  into 
the  Tower." 

But  the  new  king,  the  true  king,  said : 

"  I  will  not  have  it  so.  But  for  him  I  had  not 
got  my  crown  again  —  none  shall  lay  a  hand  upon 
him  to  harm  him.  And  as  for  thee,  my  good  uncle, 
my  Lord  Protector,  this  conduct  of  thine  is  not 
grateful  toward  this  poor  lad,  for  I  hear  he  hath 
made  thee  a  duke  " — the  Protector  blushed — *'  yet 
he  was  not  a  king;  wherefore,  what  is  thy  fine  title 
worth  now?  To-morrow  you  shall  sue  to  me, 
through  him,  for  its  confirmation,  else  no  duke,  but 
a  simple  earl,  shalt  thou  remain." 

Under  this  rebuke,  his  grace  the  Duke  of  Somer 
set,  retired  a  little  from  the  front  for  the  moment. 
The  king  turned  to  Tom,  and  said,  kindly: 

"  My  poor  boy,  how  was  it  that  you  could  re 
member  where  I  hid  the  Seal  when  I  could  not 
remember  it  myself?" 

"Ah,  my  king,  that  was  easy,  since  I  used  it 
divers  days." 

"  Used  it, —  yet  could  not  explain  where  it  was?" 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  293 

"  I  did  not  know  it  was  that  they  wanted.     They 
did  not  describe  it,  your  majesty." 
'  Then  how  used  you  it?" 

The  red  blood  began  to  steal  up  into  Tom's 
cheeks,  and  he  dropped  his  eyes  and  was  silent. 

"Speak  up,  good  lad,  and  fear  nothing,"  said 
the  king.  "  How  used  you  the  Great  Seal  of  Eng 
land?" 

Tom  stammered  a  moment,  in  a  pathetic  confu 
sion,  then  got  it  out: 

14  To  crack  nuts  with!" 

Poor  child,  the  avalanche  of  laughter  that  greeted 
this,  nearly  swept  him  off  his  feet.  But  if  a  doubt 
remained  in  any  mind  that  Tom  Canty  was  not  the 
king  of  England  and  familiar  with  the  august  ap 
purtenances  of  royalty,  this  reply  disposed  of  it 
uttterly. 

Meantime  the  sumptuous  robe  of  state  had  been 
removed  from  Tom's  shoulders  to  the  king's,  whose 
rags  were  effectually  hidden  from  sight  under  it. 
Then  the  coronation  ceremonies  were  resumed ;  the 
true  king  was  anointed  and  the  crown  set  upon  his 
head,  whilst  cannon  thundered  the  news  to  the  city, 
and  all  London  seemed  to  rock  with  applause. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

EDWARD   AS    KING 

MILES  HENDON  was  picturesque  enough  before 
he  got  into  the  riot  on  London  Bridge  — he 
was  more  so  when  he  got  out  of  it.  He  had  but 
little  money  when  he  got  in,  none  at  all  when  he 
got  out.  The  pickpockets  had  stripped  him  of  his 
last  farthing. 

But  no  matter,  so  he  found  his  boy.  Being  a 
soldier,  he  did  not  go  at  his  task  in  a  random  way, 
but  set  to  work,  first  of  all,  to  arrange  his  campaign. 

What  would  the  boy  naturally  do  ?  Where  would 
he  naturally  go?  Well  —  argued  Miles  —  he  would 
naturally  go  to  his  former  haunts,  for  that  is  the 
instinct  of  unsound  minds,  when  homeless  and  for 
saken,  as  well  as  of  sound  ones.  Whereabouts  were 
his  former  haunts?  His  rags,  taken  together  with 
the  low  villain  who  seemed  to  know  him  and  who 
even  claimed  to  be  his  father,  indicated  that  his 
home  was  in  one  or  another  of  the  poorest  and 
meanest  districts  of  London.  Would  the  search  for 
him  be  difficult,  or  long?  No,  it  was  likely  to  be 
easy  and  brief.  He  would  not  hunt  for  the  boy,  he 

(294) 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  295 

would  hunt  for  a  crowd ;  in  the  center  of  a  big 
crowd  or  a  little  one,  sooner  or  later,  he  should  find 
his  poor  little  friend,  sure;  and  the  mangy  mob 
would  be  entertaining  itself  with  pestering  and  aggra 
vating  the  boy,  who  would  be  proclaiming  himself 
king,  as  usual.  Then  Miles  Hendon  would  cripple 
some  of  those  people,  and  carry  off  his  little  ward, 
and  comfort  and  cheer  him  with  loving  words,  and 
the  two  would  never  be  separated  any  more. 

So  Miles  started  on  his  quest.  Hour  after  hour 
he  tramped  through  back  alleys  and  squalid  streets, 
seeking  groups  and  crowds,  and  finding  no  end  of 
them,  but  never  any  sign  of  the  boy.  This  greatly 
surprised  him,  but  did  not  discourage  him.  To  his 
notion,  there  was  nothing  the  matter  with  his  plan  of 
campaign ;  the  only  miscalculation  about  it  was  that 
the  campaign  was  becoming  a  lengthy  one,  whereas 
he  had  expected  it  to  be  short. 

When  daylight  arrived  at  last,  he  had  made  many 
a  mile,  and  canvassed  many  a  crowd,  but  the  only 
result  was  that  he  was  tolerably  tired,  rather  hungry, 
and  very  sleepy.  He  wanted  some  breakfast,  but 
there  was  no  way  to  get  it.  To  beg  for  it  did  not 
occur  to  him;  as  to  pawning  his  sword,  he  would  as 
soon  have  thought  of  parting  with  his  honor;  he 
could  spare  some  of  his  clothes  —  yes,  but  one 
could  as  easily  find  a  customer  for  a  disease  as  for 
such  clothes. 

At  noon  he  was  still  tramping — among  the  rabble 
which  followed  after  the  royal  procession  now ;  for  he 


296  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

argued  that  this  regal  display  would  attract  his  little 
lunatic  powerfully.  He  followed  the  pageant  through 
all  its  devious  windings  about  London,  and  all  the 
way  to  Westminster  and  the  Abbey.  He  drifted  here 
and  there  among  the  multitudes  that  were  massed  in 
the  vicinity  for  a  weary  long  time,  baffled  and  per 
plexed,  and  finally  wandered  off  thinking,  and  trying 
to  contrive  some  way  to  better  his  plan  of  campaign. 
By  and  by,  when  he  came  to  himself  out  of  his 
musings,  he  discovered  that  the  town  was  far  behind 
him  and  that  the  day  was  growing  old.  He  was 
near  the  river,  and  in  the  country ;  it  was  a  region 
of  fine  rural  seats  —  not  the  sort  of  district  to  wel 
come  clothes  like  his. 

It  was  not  at  all  cold ;  so  he  stretched  himself  on 
the  ground  in  the  lee  of  a  hedge  to  rest  and  think. 
Drowsiness  presently  began  to  settle  upon  his 
senses;  the  faint  and  far-off  boom  of  cannon  was 
wafted  to  his  ear,  and  he  said  to  himself  "  The  new 
king  is  crowned,"  and  straightway  fell  asleep.  He 
had  not  slept  or  rested,  before,  for  more  than  thirty 
hours.  He  did  not  wake  again  until  near  the  middle 
of  the  next  morning. 

He  got  up,  lame,  stiff,  and  half  famished,  washed 
himself  in  the  river,  stayed  his  stomach  with  a  pint 
or  two  of  water,  and  trudged  off  toward  Westminster 
grumbling  at  himself  for  having  wasted  so  much 
time.  Hunger  helped  him  to  a  new  plan  now;  he 
would  try  to  get  speech  with  old  Sir  Humphrey 
Marlow  and  borrow  a  few  marks,  and  —  but  that 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  297 

was  enough  of  a  plan  for  the  present ;  it  would  be 
time  enough  to  enlarge  it  when  this  first  stage  should 
be  accomplished. 

Toward  eleven  o'clock  he  approached  the  palace; 
and  although  a  host  of  showy  people  were  about 
him,  moving  in  the  same  direction,  he  was  not  in 
conspicuous —  his  costume  took  care  of  that.  He 
watched  these  people's  faces  narrowly,  hoping  to 
find  a  charitable  one  whose  possessor  might  be  will 
ing  to  carry  his  name  to  the  old  lieutenant  —  as  to 
trying  to  get  into  the  palace  himself,  that  was  simply 
out  of  the  question. 

Presently  our  whipping-boy  passed  him,  then 
wheeled  about  and  scanned  his  figure  well,  saying 
to  himself,  "  An'  that  is  not  the  very  vagabond  his 
majesty  is  in  such  a  worry  about,  then  am  I  an  ass  — 
though  belike  I  was  that  before.  He  answereth  the 
description  to  a  rag  —  that  God  should  make  two 
such,  would  be  to  cheapen  miracles,  by  wasteful 
repetition.  I  would  I  could  contrive  an  excuse  to 
speak  with  him." 

Miles  Hendon  saved  him  the  trouble;  for  he 
turned  about,  then,  as  a  man  generally  will  when 
somebody  mesmerizes  him  by  gazing  hard  at  him 
from  behind ;  and  observing  a  strong  interest  in  the 
boy's  eyes,  he  stepped  toward  him  and  said: 

"You  have  just  come  out  from  the  palace;  do 
you  belong  there?" 

"  Yes,  your  worship." 

"  Know  you  Sir  Humphrey  Marlow?" 


298  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

The  boy  started,  and  said  to  himself,  "Lord! 
mine  old  departed  father!"  Then  he  answered, 
aloud,  "  Right  well,  your  worship." 

11  Good  — is  he  within?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  boy;  and  added,  to  himself, 
41  within  his  grave." 

"  Might  I  crave  your  favor  to  carry  my  name  to 
him,  and  say  I  beg  to  say  a  word  in  his  ear?" 

"  I  will  dispatch  the  business  right  willingly,  fair 
sir." 

'Then  say  Miles  Hendon,  son  of  Sir  Richard,  is 
here  without  —  I  shall  be  greatly  bounden  to  you, 
my  good  lad." 

The  boy  looked  disappointed — "the  king  did 
not  name  him  so,"  he  said  to  himself — "  but  it  mat- 
tereth  not,  this  is  his  twin  brother,  and  can  give 
his  majesty  news  of  'tother  Sir-Odds-and-Ends, 
I  warrant."  So  he  said  to  Miles,  "  Step  in  there 
a  moment,  good  sir,  and  wait  till  I  bring  you 
word." 

Hendon  retired  to  the  place  indicated  —  it  was  a 
recess  sunk  in  the  palace  wall,  with  a  stone  bench 
in  it — a  shelter  for  sentinels  in  bad  weather.  He 
had  hardly  seated  himself  when  some  halberdiers,  in 
charge  of  an  officer,  passed  by.  The  officer  saw 
him,  halted  his  men,  and  commanded  Hendon  to 
come  forth.  He  obeyed,  and  was  promptly  arrested 
as  a  suspicious  character  prowling  within  the  pre 
cincts  of  the  palace.  Things  began  to  look  ugly. 
Poor  Miles  was  going  to  explain,  but  the  officer 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  299 

roughly  silenced  him,  and  ordered  his  men  to  dis 
arm  him  and  search  him. 

"God  of  his  mercy  grant  that  they  find  some 
what,"  said  poor  Miles;  "I  have  searched  enow, 
and  failed,  yet  is  my  need  greater  than  theirs." 

Nothing  was  found  but  a  document.  The  officer 
tore  it  open,  and  Hendon  smiled  when  he  recog 
nized  the  "  pot-hooks  "  made  by  his  lost  little  friend 
that  black  day  at  Hendon  Hall,  The  officer's  face 
grew  dark  as  he  read  the  English  paragraph,  and 
Miles  blenched  to  the  opposite  color  as  he  listened. 

"Another  new  claimant  of  the  crown!"  cried 
the  officer.  '  Verily  they  breed  like  rabbits  to-day. 
Seize  the  rascal,  men,  and  see  ye  keep  him  fast 
while  I  convey  this  precious  paper  within  and  send 
it  to  the  king." 

He  hurried  away,  leaving  the  prisoner  in  the  grip 
of  the  halberdiers. 

"Now  is  my  evil  luck  ended  at  last,"  muttered 
Hendon,  "  for  I  shall  dangle  at  a  rope's  end  for  a 
certainty,  by  reason  of  that  bit  of  writing.  And 
what  will  become  of  my  poor  lad!  —  ah,  only  the 
good  God  knoweth." 

By  and  by  he  saw  the  officer  coming  again,  in  a 
great  hurry;  so  he  plucked  his  courage  together, 
purposing  to  meet  his  trouble  as  became  a  man. 
The  officer  ordered  the  men  to  loose  the  prisoner 
and  return  his  sword  to  him ;  then  bowed  respect 
fully,  and  said : 

"  Please  you,  sir,  to  follow  me." 


300  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

Hendon  followed,  saying  to  himself,  "  An'  I  were 
not  traveling  to  death  and  judgment,  and  so  must 
needs  economize  in  sin,  I  would  throttle  this  knave 
for  his  mock  courtesy." 

The  two  traversed  a  populous  court,  and  arrived 
at  the  grand  entrance  of  the  palace,  where  the 
officer,  with  another  bow,  delivered  Hendon  into 
the  hands  of  a  gorgeous  official,  who  received  him 
with  profound  respect  and  led  him  forward  through 
a  great  hall,  lined  on  both  sides  with  rows  of  splen 
did  flunkies  (who  made  reverential  obeisance  as 
the  two  passed  along,  but  fell  into  death-throes  of 
silent  laughter  at  our  stately  scarecrow  the  moment 
his  back  was  turned),  and  up  a  broad  staircase, 
among  flocks  of  fine  folk,  and  finally  conducted  him 
to  a  vast  room,  clove  a  passage  for  him  through 
the  assembled  nobility  of  England,  then  made  a 
bow,  reminded  him  to  take  his  hat  off,  and  left  him 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  a  mark  for  all 
eyes,  for  plenty  of  indignant  frowns,  and  for  a  suf 
ficiency  of  amused  and  derisive  smiles. 

Miles  Hendon  was  entirely  bewildered.  There 
sat  the  young  king,  under  a  canopy  of  state,  five 
steps  away,  with  his  head  bent  down  and  aside, 
speaking  with  a  sort  of  human  bird  of  paradise  —  a 
duke,  maybe;  Hendon  observed  to  himself  that  it 
was  hard  enough  to  be  sentenced  to  death  in  the 
full  vigor  of  life,  without  having  this  peculiarly 
public  humiliation  added.  He  wished  the  king 
would  hurry  about  it  — some  of  the  gaudy  people 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  301 

near  by  were  becoming  pretty  offensive.  At  this 
moment  the  king  raised  his  head  slightly  and 
Hendon  caught  a  good  view  of  his  face.  The  sight 
nearly  took  his  breath  away !  He  stood  gazing  at 
the  fair  young  face  like  one  transfixed ;  then  pres 
ently  ejaculated : 

"  Lo,  the  lord  of  the  Kingdom  of  Dreams  and 
Shadows  on  his  throne!" 

He  muttered  some  broken  sentences,  still  gazing 
and  marveling;  then  turned  his  eyes  around  and 
about,  scanning  the  gorgeous  throng  and  the  splen 
did  saloon,  murmuring  "  But  these  are  real — verily 
these  are  real — surely  it  is  not  a  dream." 

He  stared  at  the  king  again  —  and  thought,  ' '  Is 

it  a  dream? or  is  he  the  veritable  sovereign  of 

England,  and  not  the  friendless  poor  Tom  o'  Bed 
lam  I  took  him  for  —  who  shall  solve  me  this 
riddle?" 

A  sudden  idea  flashed  in  his  eye,  and  he  strode 
to  the  wall,  gathered  up  a  chair,  brought  it  back, 
planted  it  on  the  floor,  and  sat  down  in  it ! 

A  buzz  of  indignation  broke  out,  a  rough  hand 
was  laid  upon  him,  and  a  voice  exclaimed: 

"Up,  thou  mannerless  clown! — wouldst  sit  in 
the  presence  of  the  king?" 

The  disturbance  attracted  his  majesty's  attention, 
who  stretched  forth  his  hand  and  cried  out: 
*  Touch  him  not,  it  is  his  right!" 

The  throng  fell  back,  stupefied.  The  king  went 
on: 


20 


302  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

"Learn  ye  all,  ladies,  lords  and  gentlemen,  that 
this  is  my  trusty  and  well-beloved  servant,  Miles 
Hendon,  who  interposed  his  good  sword  and  saved 
his  prince  from  bodily  harm  and  possible  death  — 
and  for  this  he  is  a  knight,  by  the  king's  voice. 
Also  learn,  that  for  a  higher  service,  in  that  he 
saved  his  sovereign  stripes  and  shame,  taking  these 
upon  himself,  he  is  a  peer  of  England,  Earl  of  Kent, 
and  shall  have  gold  and  lands  meet  for  the  dig 
nity.  More  —  the  privilege  which  he  hath  just  exer 
cised  is  his  by  royal  grant;  for  we  have  ordained 
that  the  chiefs  of  his  line  shall  have  and  hold  the 
right  to  sit  in  the  presence  of  the  majesty  of  Eng 
land  henceforth,  age  after  age,  so  long  as  the  crown 
shall  endure.  Molest  him  not." 

Two  persons,  who,  through  delay,  had  only  ar 
rived  from  the  country  during  this  morning,  and  had 
now  been  in  this  room  only  five  minutes,  stood 
listening  to  these  words  and  looking  at  the  king, 
then  at  the  scarecrow,  then  at  the  king  again,  in  a 
sort  of  torpid  bewilderment.  These  were  Sir  Hugh 
and  the  Lady  Edith.  But  the  new  earl  did  not  see 
them.  He  was  still  staring  at  the  monarch,  in  a 
dazed  way,  and  muttering : 

"  Oh,  body  o'  me  !  This  my  pauper  !  This  my 
lunatic !  This  is  he  whom  /  would  show  what 
grandeur  was,  in  my  house  of  seventy  rooms  and 
seven  and  twenty  servants !  This  is  he  who  had 
never  known  aught  but  rags  for  raiment,  kicks  for 
comfort,  and  offal  for  diet!  This  is  he  whom  1 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  303 

adopted  and  would  make  respectable !     Would  God 
I  had  a  bag  to  hide  my  head  in  !" 

Then  his  manners  suddenly  came  back  to  him, 
and  he  dropped  upon  his  knees,  with  his  hands 
between  the  king's,  and  swore  allegiance  and  did 
homage  for  his  lands  and  titles.  Then  he  rose  and 
stood  respectfully  aside,  a  mark  still  for  all  eyes  — 
and  much  envy,  too. 

Now  the  king  discovered  Sir  Hugh,  and  spoke 
out,  with  wrathful  voice  and  kindling  eye : 

* '  Strip  this  robber  of  his  false  show  and  stolen 
estates,  and  put  him  under  lock  and  key  till  I  have 
need  of  him." 

The  late  Sir  Hugh  was  led  away. 

There  was  a  stir  at  the  other  end  of  the  room 
now;  the  assemblage  fell  apart,  and  Tom  Canty, 
quaintly  but  richly  clothed,  marched  down,  between 
these  living  walls,  preceded  by  an  usher.  He  knelt 
before  the  king,  who  said : 

"  I  have  learned  the  story  of  these  past  few 
weeks,  and  am  well  pleased  with  thee.  Thou  hast 
governed  the  realm  with  right  royal  gentleness  and 
mercy.  Thou  hast  found  thy  mother  and  thy  sisters 
again  ?  Good ;  they  shall  be  cared  for  —  and  thy 
father  shall  hang,  if  thou  desire  it  and  the  law  con 
sent.  Know,  all  ye  that  hear  my  voice,  that  from 
this  day,  they  that  abide  in  the  shelter  of  Christ's 
Hospital  and  share  the  king's  bounty,  shall  have  their 
minds  and  hearts  fed,  as  well  as  their  baser  parts; 
and  this  boy  shall  dwell  there,  and  hold  the  chief 


304  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

place  in  its  honorable  body  of  governors,  during 
life.  And  for  that  he  hath  been  a  king,  it  is  meet 
that  other  than  common  observance  shall  be  his  due ; 
wherefore,  note  this  his  dress  of  state,  for  by  it  he 
shall  be  known,  and  none  shall  copy  it;  and  where 
soever  he  shall  come,  it  shall  remind  the  people  that 
he  hath  been  royal,  in  his  time,  and  none  shall  deny 
him  his  due  of  reverence  or  fail  to  give  him  saluta 
tion.  He  hath  the  throne's  protection,  he  hath  the 
crown's  support,  he  shall  be  known  and  called  by 
the  honorable  title  of  the  King's  Ward." 

The  proud  and  happy  Tom  Canty  rose  and  kissed 
the  king's  hand,  and  was  conducted  from  the  pres 
ence.  He  did  not  waste  any  time,  but  flew  to  his 
mother,  to  tell  her  and  Nan  and  Bet  all  about  it  and 
get  them  to  help  him  enjoy  the  great  news.* 

*  See  Notes  to  Chapter  33,  at  end  of  the  volume. 


CONCLUSION 

JUSTICE  AND    RETRIBUTION 

WHEN  the  mysteries  were  all  cleared  up,  it  came 
out,  by  confession  of  Hugh  Hendon,  that  his 
wife  had  repudiated  Miles  by  his  command  that  day 
at  Hendon  Hall  —  a  command  assisted  and  sup 
ported  by  the  perfectly  trustworthy  promise  that  if 
she  did  not  deny  that  he  was  Miles  Hendon,  and 
stand  firmly  to  it,  he  would  have  her  life ;  where 
upon  she  said  take  it,  she  did  not  value  it  —  and  she 
would  not  repudiate  Miles;  then  the  husband  said 
he  would  spare  her  life,  but  have  Miles  assassinated ! 
This  was  a  different  matter;  so  she  gave  her  word 
and  kept  it. 

Hugh  was  not  prosecuted  for  his  threats  or  for 
stealing  his  brother's  estates  and  title,  because  the 
wife  and  brother  would  not  testify  against  him  — 
and  the  former  would  not  have  been  allowed  to  do 
it,  even  if  she  had  wanted  to.  Hugh  deserted  his 
wife  and  went  over  to  the  continent,  where  he  pres 
ently  died ;  and  by  and  by  the  Earl  of  Kent  married 
his  relict  There  were  grand  times  and  rejoicings  at 
Hendon  village  when  the  couple  paid  their  first  visit 
to  the  Hall. 

20  (305) 


306  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

Tom  Canty 's  father  was  never  heard  of  again. 

The  king  sought  out  the  farmer  who  had  been 
branded  and  sold  as  a  slave,  and  reclaimed  him  from 
his  evil  life  with  the  Ruffler's  gang,  and  put  him  in 
the  way  of  a  comfortable  livelihood. 

He  also  took  that  old  lawyer  out  of  prison  and 
remitted  his  fine.  He  provided  good  homes  for  the 
daughters  of  the  two  Baptist  women  whom  he  saw 
burned  at  the  stake,  and  roundly  punished  the 
official  who  laid  the  undeserved  stripes  upon  Miles 
Hendon's  back. 

He  saved  from  the  gallows  the  boy  who  had 
captured  the  stray  falcon,  and  also  the  woman  who 
had  stolen  a  remnant  of  cloth  from  a  weaver ;  but 
he  was  too  late  to  save  the  man  who  had  been  con 
victed  of  killing  a  deer  in  the  royal  forest. 

He  showed  favor  to  the  justice  who  had  pitied 
him  when  he  was  supposed  to  have  stolen  a  pig,  and 
he  had  the  gratification  of  seeing  him  grow  in  the 
public  esteem  and  become  a  great  and  honored  man. 

As  long  as  the  king  lived  he  was  fond  of  telling 
the  story  of  his  adventures,  all  through,  from  the 
hour  that  the  sentinel  cuffed  him  away  from  the 
palace  gate  till  the  final  midnight  when  he  deftly 
mixed  himself  into  a  gang  of  hurrying  workmen  and 
so  slipped  into  the  Abbey  and  climbed  up  and  hid 
himself  in  the  Confessor's  tomb,  and  then  slept  so 
long,  next  day,  that  he  came  within  one  of  missing 
the  Coronation  altogether.  He  said  that  the  fre 
quent  rehearsing  of  the  precious  lesson  kept  him 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  307 

strong  in  his  purpose  to  make  its  teachings  yield 
benefits  to  his  people;  and  so,  while  his  life  was 
spared  he  should  continue  to  tell  the  story,  and  thus 
keep  its  sorrowful  spectacles  fresh  in  his  memory 
and  the  springs  of  pity  replenished  in  his  heart. 

Miles  Hendon  and  Tom  Canty  were  favorites  of 
the  king,  all  through  his  brief  reign,  and  his  sincere 
mourners  when  he  died.  The  good  Earl  of  Kent 
had  too  much  good  sense  to  abuse  his  peculiar 
privilege ;  but  he  exercised  it  twice  after  the  instance 
we  have  seen  of  it  before  he  was  called  from  the 
world ;  once  at  the  accession  of  Queen  Mary,  and 
once  at  the  accession  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  A  de 
scendant  of  his  exercised  it  at  the  accession  of  James 
I.  Before  this  one's  son  chose  to  use  the  privilege, 
near  a  quarter  of  a  century  had  elapsed,  and  the 
"privilege  of  the  Kents "  had  faded  out  of  most 
people's  memories;  so,  when  the  Kent  of  that  day 
appeared  before  Charles  I.  and  his  court  and  sat  down 
in  the  sovereign's  presence  to  assert  and  perpetuate 
the  right  of  his  house,  there  was  a  fine  stir,  indeed ! 
But  the  matter  was  soon  explained  and  the  right 
confirmed.  The  last  earl  of  the  line  fell  in  the  wars 
of  the  Commonwealth  fighting  for  the  king,  and  the 
odd  privilege  ended  with  him. 

Tom  Canty  lived  to  be  a  very  old  man,  a  hand 
some,  white-haired  old  fellow,  of  grave  and  benignant 
aspect.  As  long  as  he  lasted  he  was  honored ;  and 
he  was  also  reverenced,  for  his  striking  and  peculiar 
costume  kept  the  people  reminded  that  "  in  his  time 
T 


308  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

he  had  been  royal;"  so,  wherever  he  appeared  the 
crowd  fell  apart,  making  way  for  him,  and  whisper 
ing,  one  to  another,  '*  Doff  thy  hat,  it  is  the  King's 
Ward!" — and  so  they  saluted,  and  got  his  kindly 
smile  in  return  —  and  they  valued  it,  too,  for  his 
was  an  honorable  history. 

Yes,  King  Edward  VI.  lived  only  a  few  years, 
poor  boy,  but  he  lived  them  worthily.  More  than 
once,  when  some  great  dignitary,  some  gilded  vassal 
of  the  crown,  made  argument  against  his  leniency, 
and  urged  that  some  law  which  he  was  bent  upon 
amending  was  gentle  enough  for  its  purpose,  and 
wrought  no  suffering  or  oppression  which  any  one 
need  mightily  mind,  the  young  king  turned  the 
mournful  eloquence  of  his  great  compassionate  eyes 
upon  him  and  answered : 

"  What  dost  thou  know  of  suffering  and  oppres 
sion?  I  and  my  people  know,  but  not  thou." 

The  reign  of  Edward  VI.  was  a  singularly  merci 
ful  one  for  those  harsh  times.  Now  that  we  are 
taking  leave  of  him  let  us  try  to  keep  this  in  our 
minds,  to  his  credit. 


NOTES 

NOTE  i — PAGE  37 
Chrisfs  Hospital  Costume 

IT  is  most  reasonable  to  regard  the  dress  as  copied  from  the  costume 
of  the  citizens  of  London  of  that  period,  when  long  blue  coats  were  the 
common  habit  of  apprentices  and  serving-men,  and  yellow  stockings  were 
generally  worn;  the  coat  fits  closely  to  the  body,  but  has  loose  sleeves,  and 
beneath  is  worn  a  sleeveless  yellow  under-coat;  around  the  waist  is  a 
red  leathern  girdle;  a  clerical  band  around  the  neck,  and  a  small  flat 
black  cap,  about  the  size  of  a  saucer,  completes  the  costume. —  Times' 
"Curiosities  of  London." 

NOTE  2— Page  40 

It  appears  that  Christ's  Hospital  was  not  originally  founded  as  a 
school;  its  object  was  to  rescue  children  from  the  streets,  to  shelter,  feed, 
clothe  them,  etc. —  Timbs*  "Curiosities  of  London.** 

NOTE  3  —  Page   50 
The  Duke  of  Norfolk's  Condemnation  Commanded 

THE  King  was  now  approaching  fast  towards  his  end;  and  fearing 
lest  Norfolk  should  escape  him,  he  sent  a  message  to  the  Commons,  by 
which  he  desired  them  to  hasten  the  bill,  on  pretence  that  Norfolk  en 
joyed  the  dignity  of  earl  marshal,  and  it  was  necessary  to  appoint 
another,  who  might  officiate  at  the  ensuing  ceremony  of  installing  his 
son  Prince  of  Wales. — Hume>  vol.  iii,  p.  307. 

NOTE  4 — Page  65 

IT  was  not  till  the  end  of  this  reign  [Henry  VIII]  that  any  salads, 
carrots-  turnips,  or  other  edible  roots  were  produced  in  England.  The 

(309) 


310  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

little  of  these  vegetables  that  was  used  was  formerly  imported  from 
Holland  and  Flanders.  Queen  Catherine,  when  she  wanted  a  salad, 
was  obliged  to  despatch  a  messenger  thither  on  purpose. — Hume's 
History  of  England t  vol.  iii,  p.  314. 


NOTE  5 — Page  71 
Attainder  of  Norfolk 

THE  house  of  peers,  without  examining  the  prisoner,  without  trial  or 
evidence,  passed  a  bill  of  attainder  against  him  and  sent  it  down  to  the 
commons.  .  .  .  The  obsequious  commons  obeyed  his  [the  King's] 
directions;  and  the  King,  having  affixed  the  royal  assent  to  the  bill  by 
commissioners,  issued  orders  for  the  execution  of  Norfolk  on  the  morn 
ing  of  the  twenty-ninth  of  January  [the  next  day]. — Hume's  England, 
vol.  iii,  p.  306. 

NOTE  6— PAGE  87 
The  Loving- Cup 

The  loving-cup,  and  the  peculiar  ceremonies  observed  in  drinking 
from  it,  are  older  than  English  history.  It  is  thought  that  both  are 
Danish  importations.  As  far  back  as  knowledge  goes,  the  loving-cup 
has  always  been  drunk  at  English  banquets.  Tradition  explains  the 
ceremonies  in  this  way  :  in  the  rude  ancient  times  it  was  deemed  a  wise 
precaution  to  have  both  hands  of  both  drinkers  employed,  lest  while  the 
pledger  pledged  his  love  and  fidelity  to  the  pledgee  the  pledgee  take 
that  opportunity  to  slip  a  dirk  into  him ! 

NOTE  7 — PAGE  94 
The  Duke  of  Norfolk's  Narrow  Escape 

HAD  Henry  VIII  survived  a  few  hours  longer,  his  order  for  the 

duke's  execution  would  have  been  carried  into  effect.  "  But  news  being 
carried  to  the  Tower  that  the  King  himself  had  expired  that  night,  the 
lieutenant  deferred  obeying  the  warrant;  and  it  was  not  thought  advis 
able  by  the  council  to  begin  a  new  reign  by  the  death  of  the  greatest 
nobleman  in  the  Kingdom,  who  had  been  condemned  by  a  sentence  so 
unjust  and  tyrannical." — Hume's  England,  vol.  iii,  p.  307. 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  311 

NOTE  8  —  Page  129 
The   Whipping-B»y 

JAMES  I  and  Charles  II  had  whipping-boys  when  they  were  little 
fellows,  to  take  their  punishment  for  them  when  they  fell  short  in  their 
lessons;  so  I  have  ventured  to  furnish  my  small  prince  with  one,  for  my 
own  purposes. 

NOTES  TO  CHAPTER  XV  —  Page  149 
Character  of  Hertford 

THE  young  king  discovered  an  extreme  attachment  to  his  uncle, 
who  was,  in  the  main,  a  man  of  moderation  and  probity. —  Hume's 
England,  vol.  iii,  p.  324. 

But  if  he  [the  Protector]  gave  offense  by  assuming  too  much  state, 
he  deserves  great  praise  on  account  of  the  laws  passed  this  session,  by 
which  the  rigor  of  former  statutes  was  much  mitigated,  and  some  se 
curity  given  to  the  freedom  of  the  constitution.  All  laws  were  repealed 
which  extended  the  crime  of  treason  beyond  the  statute  of  the  twenty-fifth 
of  Edward  III;  all  laws  enacted  during  the  late  reign  extending  the  crime 
of  felony;  all  the  former  laws  against  Lollardy  or  heresy,  together  with 
the  statute  of  the  Six  Articles.  None  were  to  be  accused  for  words,  but 
within  a  month  after  they  were  spoken.  By  these  repeals  several  of  the 
most  rigorous  laws  that  ever  had  passed  in  England  were  annulled;  and 
some  dawn,  both  of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  began  to  appear  to  the 
people.  A  repeal  also  passed  of  that  law,  the  destruction  of  all  laws,  by 
which  the  king's  proclamation  was  made  of  equal  force  with  a  statute. 
—  Ibid.,  vol.  iii,  p.  339. 

Boiling  to  Death 

IN  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII,  prisoners  were,  by  act  of  parliament, 
condemned  to  be  boiled  to  death.  This  act  was  repealed  in  the  follow 
ing  reign. 

In  Germany,  even  in  the  1 7th  century,  this  horrible  punishment  was 
inflicted  on  coiners  and  counterfeiters.  Taylor,  the  Water  Poet,  de 
scribes  an  execution  he  witnessed  in  Hamburg,  in  1616.  The  judgment 
pronounced  against  a  coiner  of  false  money  was  that  he  should  "be 
boiled  to  death  in  oil :  not  thrown  into  the  vessel  at  once,  but  with  a 
pulley  or  rope  to  be  hanged  under  the  armpits,  and  then  let  down  into 


312  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

the  oil  by  degrees;  first  the  feet,  and  next  the  legs,  and  so  to  boil  his 
flesh  from  his  bones  alive." — Dr.  J.  Hammond  TrumbulFs  "Blue 
Laws,  True  and  False,"  p.  13. 

The  Famous  Stocking  Case 

A  WOMAN  and  her  daughter,  nine  years  old,  were  hanged  in  Hunt 
ingdon  for  selling  their  souls  to  the  devil,  and  raising  a  storm  by  pulling 
off  their  stockings! — Ibid.,  p.  20. 

NOTE  10  —  Page  166 

Enslaving 

So  young  a  king,  and  so  ignorant  a  peasant  were  likely  to  make 
mistakes  — and  this  is  an  instance  in  point.  This  peasant  was  suffering 
from  this  law  by  anticipation ;  the  king  was  venting  his  indignation 
against  a  law  which  was  not  yet  in  existence :  for  this  hideous  statute 
was  to  have  birth  in  this  little  king's  own  reign.  However,  we  know, 
from  the  humanity  of  his  character,  that  it  could  never  have  been  sug 
gested  by  him. 

NOTES  TO  CHAPTER  XXIII  —  Page  218 
Death  for   Trifling  Larcenies 

WHEN  Connecticut  and  New  Haven  were  framing  their  first  codes, 
larceny  above  the  value  of  twelve  pence  was  a  capital  crime  in  England, 
as  it  had  been  since  the  time  of  Henry  I. —  Dr.  J.  Hammond  Trum- 
bull's  "Blue  Laws,  True  and  False,"  p.  17. 

The  curious  old  book  called  "The  English  Rogue"  makes  the  limit 
thirteen  pence  ha'penny;  death  being  the  portion  of  any  who  steal  a 
thing  "above  the  value  of  thirteen  pence  ha'penny." 

NOTES  TO  CHAPTER  XXVII  — Page  253 

FROM  many  descriptions  of  larceny,  the  law  expressly  took  away  the 
benefit  of  clergy;  to  steal  a  horse,  or  a  hawk,  or  woolen  cloth  from  the 
weaver,  was  a  hanging  matter.  So  it  was  to  kill  a  deer  from  the  king's 
forest,  or  to  export  sheep  from  the  Kingdom. — Dr.  J.  Hammond 
TrumbulPs  "Blue  Laws,  True  and  False,"  p.  13. 

William  Prynne,  a  learned  barrister,  was  sentenced — [long  after 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  313 

Edward  the  Sixth's  time] — to  lose  both  his  ears  in  the  pillory;  to  de 
gradation  from  the  bar;  a  fine  of  ^"3,000,  and  imprisonment  for  life. 
Three  years  afterwards,  he  gave  new  offense  to  Laud,  by  publishing  a 
pamphlet  against  the  hierarchy.  He  was  again  prosecuted,  and  was 
sentenced  to  lose  -what  remained  of  his  ears;  to  pay  a  fine  of 
^"5,000;  to  be  branded  on  both  his  cheeks  with  the  letters  S.  L.  (for 
Seditious  Libeller),  and  to  remain  in  prison  for  life.  The  severity  of 
this  sentence  was  equaled  by  the  savage  rigor  of  its  execution. —  Ibid.t 
p.  12. 

NOTES  TO  CHAPTER  XXXIII  —  Page  304 

CHRIST'S  HOSPITAL  or  BLUE  COAT  SCHOOL,  "the  Noblest  Insti 
tution  in  the  World." 

The  ground  on  which  the  Priory  of  the  Grey  Friars  stood  was  conferred 
by  Henry  the  Eighth  on  the  Corporation  of  London  [who  caused  the 
institution  there  of  a  home  for  poor  boys  and  girls].  Subsequently, 
Edward  the  Sixth  caused  the  old  Priory  to  be  properly  repaired,  and 
founded  within  it  that  noble  establishment  called  the  Blue  Coat  School, 
or  Christ's  Hospital,  for  the  education  and  maintenance  of  orphans  and 
the  children  of  indigent  persons.  .  .  .  Edward  would  not  let  him 
[Bishop  Ridley]  depart  till  the  letter  was  written  [to  the  Lord  Mayor], 
and  then  charged  him  to  deliver  it  himself,  and  signify  his  special  re 
quest  and  commandment  that  no  time  might  be  lost  in  proposing  what 
was  convenient,  and  apprising  him  of  the  proceedings.  The  work  was 
zealously  undertaken,  Ridley  himself  engaging  in  it;  and  the  result  was, 
the  founding  of  Christ's  Hospital  for  the  Education  of  Poor  Children. 
[The  king  endowed  several  other  charities  at  the  same  time.]  "Lord 
God,"  said  he,  "  I  yield  thee  most  hearty  thanks  that  thouhast  given  me 
life  thus  long,  to  finish  this  work  to  the  glory  of  thy  name!"  That  in 
nocent  and  most  exemplary  life  was  drawing  rapidly  to  its  close,  and  in 
a  few  days  he  rendered  up  his  spirit  to  his  Creator,  praying  God  to  de 
fend  the  realm  from  Papistry.  — J.  Heneage  Jesses  "  London,  its 
Celebrated  Characters  and  Places" 

In  the  Great  Hall  hangs  a  large  picture  of  King  Edward  VI  seated 
on  his  throne,  in  a  scarlet  and  ermined  robe,  holding  the  sceptre  in  his 
left  hand,  presenting  with  the  other  the  Charter  to  the  kneeling  Lord 
Mayor.  By  his  side  stands  the  Chancellor,  holding  the  seals,  and  next  to 
him  are  other  officers  of  state.  Bishop  Ridley  kneels  before  him  with  up- 


314  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 

lifted  hands,  as  if  supplicating  a  blessing  on  the  event;  while  the  Alder 
men,  etc.,  with  the  Lord  Mayor,  kneel  on  both  sides,  occupying  the  mid 
dle  ground  of  the  picture;  and  lastly,  in  front,  are  a  double  row  of  boys  on 
one  side,  and  girls  on  the  other,  from  the  master  and  matron  down  to  the 
boy  and  girl  who  have  stepped  forward  from  their  respective  rows,  and 
kneel  with  raised  hands  before  the  king. —  Timbs  ^Curiosities  of 
London"  p.  98. 

Christ's  Hospital,  by  ancient  custom,  possesses  the  privilege  of  ad 
dressing  the  Sovereign  on  the  occasion  of  his  or  her  coming  into  the 
City  to  partake  of  the  hospitality  of  the  Corporation  of  London. —  Ibid. 

The  Dining-Hall,  with  its  lobby  and  organ -gallery,  occupies  the  entire 
story,  which  is  187  feet  long,  51  feet  wide,  and  47  feet  high;  it  is  lit  by 
nine  large  windows,  filled  with  stained  glass  on  the  south  side;  that  is, 
next  to  Westminster  Hall,  the  noblest  room  in  the  metropolis.  Here 
the  boys,  now  about  800  in  number,  dine;  and  here  are  held  the  "Sup- 
pings  in  Public,"  to  which  visitors  are  admitted  by  tickets,  issued  by  the 
Treasurer  and  by  the  Governors  of  Christ's  Hospital.  The  tables  are 
laid  with  cheese  in  wooden  bowls;  beer  in  wooden  piggins,  poured 
from  leathern  jacks  ;  and  bread  brought  in  large  baskets.  The  official 
company  enter ;  the  Lord  Mayor,  or  President,  takes  his  seat  in  a  state 
chair,  made  of  oak  from  St.  Catherine's  Church  by  the  Tower  ;  a  hymn 
is  sung,  accompanied  by  the  organ;  a  "Grecian,"  or  head  boy,  reads 
the  prayers  from  the  pulpit,  silence  being  enforced  by  three  drops  of  a 
wooden  hammer.  After  prayer  the  supper  commences,  and  the  visitors 
walk  between  the  tables.  At  its  close,  the  "trade-boys"  take  up  the 
baskets,  bowls,  jacks,  piggins,  and  candlesticks,  and  pass  in  procession, 
the  bowing  to  the  Governors  being  curiously  formal.  This  spectacle 
was  witnessed  by  Queen  Victoria  and  Prince  Albert  in  1845. 

Among  the  more  eminent  Blue  Coat  Boys  are  Joshua  Barnes,  editor 
of  Anacreon  and  Euripides ;  Jeremiah  Markland,  the  eminent  critic, 
particularly  in  Greek  literature;  Camden,  the  antiquary;  Bishop  Still- 
ingfleet;  Samuel  Richardson,  the  novelist;  Thomas  Mitchell,  the  trans 
lator  of  Aristophanes;  Thomas  Barnes,  many  years  editor  of  the  London 
Times;  Coleridge,  Charles  Lamb,  and  Leigh  Hunt. 

No  boy  is  admitted  before  he  is  seven  years  old,  or  after  he  is  nine; 
and  no  boy  can  remain  in  the  school  after  he  is  fifteen,  King's  boys  and 
"  Grecians"  alone  excepted.  There  are  about  500  Governors,  at  the 
head  of  whom  are  the  Sovereign  and  the  Prince  of  Wales.  The  quali 
fication  for  a  Governor  is  payment  of  ^500. —  Ibid, 


The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  31$ 

GENERAL  NOTE 

ONE  hears  much  about  the  "hideous  Blue-Laws  of  Connecticut '," 
and  is  accustomed  to  shudder  piously  when  they  are  mentioned. 
There  are  people  in  America — and  even  in  England  ! —  who  imag 
ine  that  they  were  a  very  monument  of  malignity,  pitilessness,  and 
inhumanity;  whereas,  in  reality  they  were  about  the  first  SWEEPING 
DEPARTURE  FROM  JUDICIAL  ATROCITY  which  the  "civilized"  world 
had  seen.  This  humane  and  kindly  Blue-Law  code,  of  two  hundred 
and  forty  years  ago,  stands  all  by  itself,  with  ages  of  bloody  law  on 
the  further  side  of  it,  and  a  century  and  three-quarters  of  bloody 
English  law  on  THIS  side  of  it. 

There  has  never  been  a  time  —  under  the  Blue- Laws  or  any  other 
—  when  above  FOURTEEN  crimes  were  ptinishable  by  death  in  Con 
necticut.  But  in  England,  within  the  memory  of  men  who  are  still 
hale  in  body  and  mind,  TWO  HUNDRED  AND  TWENTY-THREE  crimes 
were  punishable  by  death  !*  These  facts  are  worth  knowing  —  and 
worth  thinking  about,  too. 

*  See  Dr.  J.  Hammond  TrumbuITs  "  Blue  Laws,  True  and  False," 
p.  II. 


FINIS 


14  DAY  USE 

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